I wasn’t sure about starting on the messes, on the grounds that I am a catastrophically messy person. I’m afraid that my mess might make everyone else feel unduly decorous. This is where I work:
I share the computer with my husband, so it’s liberally scattered with his film mags and review copies of DVDs. It’s also currently home to Pritt stick and sugar paper left out after craft activities with the kids, a football card, a stray plaster, and one terry-towelling baby wipe. The Righetti and the OED are evidence of an evening spent agonising over the construction of the set-in sleeve and, also, whether twinset is compound or hyphenated.
When I get up from my desk, I will have to clean the pots, which will mean facing this:
I think the washing-up liquid is a nice touch, suggesting the intention get the place cleaned up at some point. Betraying the feebleness of my intentions: bags of change which have been waiting to go to the bank for nearly a year, and a bean that I forgot to plant out and has now twined along the kitchen blinds and borne fruit. Notice also the the Saturday night/Sunday morning one-two of the empties and the painting materials. I like it: it gives my kitchen sink a “kitchen sink” look.