There are days when I think I should back a dump truck up to the apartment, crank open the ceiling, pitch out every last piece of paper, writing book, marker, sketch pad, rulers, NaNoWriMo stickers, journals, and the rest of the lot, and go watch television and take valium.  Or whatever people are taking these days.  Of course, someone else would have to drive the truck away so that I wouldn’t be able to follow.  And then peace would descend.  Maybe.