Don't Go Into The Cellar!

I remember a TV program called "Rentaghost" with such star characters as Miss Nadia Popoff who randomly transprted herself all over the world when she sneezed, and Claypole the Jester. Nearly every episode ended with one or all of the characters covered in soot after going Into The Cellar.

This is my cellar; well, my bit of it anyway. And I Can't Go Into it! It has a low ceiling (too low for my height and I'm only 5ft 3) and an enormous mess. boxes that should be shut are open; the stuff is in a total state. Trays of half thought about work are lying all over the place. Like all the thoughts lying about in my head. Brightly coloured but disconnected. Open things that should be shut. Stuff spilling out.

It also has the constant hum of the electricity meter in it. An oddly comforting sound. It also has all my kitchen stuff, all my ornaments, shoes, and everything that there is No Room for in my bedroom, in a huge pile at the back collecting enormous black spiders. Trying to work in it is becoming impossible because I can't find anything. At all!

Tidying it is of course possible, enjoyable even, but I'm feeling unable to start. And what, you may ask, are two cartons of Soya milk doing on the table? Resting. I say they are just resting. Resting until they have the energy to be put away in the Cellar Cupboard, waypost of Rice Cakes, and final grave of Cassis and bright green Freezomint Liquers, one third full, still stickily sat there.

It's been said that if I was a super-hero I would be Inertia Woman. When I turn up, all the baddies just go "Ah.... I just don't really feel able to do it today. Come on, henchmen, let's go home for a quick nap, hey, why not make it a long nap. I've totally lost track of what we were doing anyway"