BarstoolProphet
New member
Well, it had been a couple of months, and things had deteriorated, as they are wont to do in a bachelor\'s apartment. The floor had been hidden by more than piles of folded laundry, though, for the man had (after years of thinking about it) finally actually started doing more than collect little metal men.
So, as he was expecting female company later in the evening, he set to work on making the place once again presentable. Or as close to it as a single male of the human species can manage.
The majority of the space was actually quite easy to neaten. All he had to do was take the piles of folded (or partially folded) laundry, and put it away properly. Then, however, he turned to his new hobby area, to set about cleaning that up.
The paints were in wild disarray, the glue bottles everywhere. Brushes were sprawled haplessly across the desk like a poorly played game of pick-up sticks. Parts of minis were similarly sprawled, unused and unrecognized in most cases.
This area took the longest to make neat (or close to it). And once that was done, with much time remaining until his company came over, he began attempting to put some kind of order to his many boxes of little metal men. This proved to be a bad idea.
Or, to be more accurate, a Bad Idea (tm). Miniatures came out of boxes. Boxes of miniatures came out of bigger boxes. Random bits of metal that were loose for no easily thought of reason were spilled. One pile of boxes fell over, burying the man for a short time. Literally.
So, after having spent a good four hours on his first clean-up session, he set about doing it all again, this time dealing with little metal men that, through his own stupid fault, had laid claim to the room like the Romans did to every place they went in ancient history. The battle was on.
Any hope of organizing was lost. Now, it was a matter of just getting them back into boxes, and getting said boxes closed enough to put away again.
Of course, now that he was no longer a simple collector, this proved more difficult than one might initially suppose. He looked at minis as he put them away. He selected minis that he wanted to paint. He came up with ideas for battle dioramas, magical and mysterious dioramas, and numerous other individual little projects.
At four o\'clock, he panicked, realizing how much time he had just wasted, and began cramming miniatures away again, having only a few hours to finish preparing, and start cooking dinner for his company.
Alas, his desk was once more a horrible mess, with miniatures he wanted to do something with piled haphazardly.
---
Is there a mini-painter\'s anonymous? Or some kind of group counselling to get this hobby under control?
So, as he was expecting female company later in the evening, he set to work on making the place once again presentable. Or as close to it as a single male of the human species can manage.
The majority of the space was actually quite easy to neaten. All he had to do was take the piles of folded (or partially folded) laundry, and put it away properly. Then, however, he turned to his new hobby area, to set about cleaning that up.
The paints were in wild disarray, the glue bottles everywhere. Brushes were sprawled haplessly across the desk like a poorly played game of pick-up sticks. Parts of minis were similarly sprawled, unused and unrecognized in most cases.
This area took the longest to make neat (or close to it). And once that was done, with much time remaining until his company came over, he began attempting to put some kind of order to his many boxes of little metal men. This proved to be a bad idea.
Or, to be more accurate, a Bad Idea (tm). Miniatures came out of boxes. Boxes of miniatures came out of bigger boxes. Random bits of metal that were loose for no easily thought of reason were spilled. One pile of boxes fell over, burying the man for a short time. Literally.
So, after having spent a good four hours on his first clean-up session, he set about doing it all again, this time dealing with little metal men that, through his own stupid fault, had laid claim to the room like the Romans did to every place they went in ancient history. The battle was on.
Any hope of organizing was lost. Now, it was a matter of just getting them back into boxes, and getting said boxes closed enough to put away again.
Of course, now that he was no longer a simple collector, this proved more difficult than one might initially suppose. He looked at minis as he put them away. He selected minis that he wanted to paint. He came up with ideas for battle dioramas, magical and mysterious dioramas, and numerous other individual little projects.
At four o\'clock, he panicked, realizing how much time he had just wasted, and began cramming miniatures away again, having only a few hours to finish preparing, and start cooking dinner for his company.
Alas, his desk was once more a horrible mess, with miniatures he wanted to do something with piled haphazardly.
---
Is there a mini-painter\'s anonymous? Or some kind of group counselling to get this hobby under control?
