Hello, my name is Elsa and I am a putterer.

Hi, Elsa.

I started puttering when I was about four years old alone in my room. I would arrange my toys just so. Then as I got older, I made elaborate , if hodge-lodge houses for my little stuffed toys. In high school, my puttering increased, until by college I was puttering every day.

We hear you, sister! We've all been there.

I would make color-coded schedules just to make them. I would put decoupaged collages on notebooks. During class, I would doodle elaborately. (voice catches, she swallows a sob.)

It was when I started moving from house to house as an excuse to rearrange my furniture that I finally realized I needed help. For this, I sincerely thank Putterer's Anonymous. Without PA, by now I would be living in a cavernous warehouse space on the Foss Waterway, teeth shivering in the pre-dawn chill of the section of floor I called my bed "room". Instead, you see before you a woman in recovery, who nees only to make few collage postcards or put the couch against a different wall in order to get her putter fix.

Thanks, PA.

Now where should I put this end table?