Piles

I'm a piler.

My room is ordinarily cluttered with various stacks of papers, books and CDs. It all makes sense to me; I know exactly which pile contains which items. There's a method to the madness, that is.

This weekend I eliminated the piles. I filed nine months worth of bank statements, paid bills, hand-outs, magazines and coupons. I did this because: A) My parents are visiting this week and they need a place to sleep (the piles were on the bed); B) Sveta's parents were coming over yesterday for lunch and a tour.

Though I'm still getting used to it, I like the way my room looks without the piles. Still, I don't know that I can entirely give up my piling ways. Piles represent things I want to give attention to. If I actually file the book in the shelf, chances are I won't read it. If it's lying next to me on the bed, however, it stands a much better chance.

I heard at a writer's conference that all writers are pilers. I don't know if this is true. Any pilers out there?

[photo is of my one remaining pile]