At last. Done as it will ever be, and much improved, I think. It took only two trips to the Dollar Tree for small containers to wrangle those little bits of beads. I actually wiped down a couple of shelves -- can't tell you what it was that got wiped up. Some mysterious sticky stuff once used to alter something, with 5 years of dust encrusted. Eewwww. The floor has been swept. The lap top has returned to its place after taking asylum on the dining table downstairs. In a space like this, storage means stacking, and making means disturbing the stacks, alas. I think The Mess is a cycle, like the Sanskrit kalpas, a unit of time encompassing birth, growth, and ultimately, destruction, in this case, full ripening of The Mess that Prevents Thought. 'Think I'll just sit here and think for awhile.