On many days if you were to visit my place, walking past the wood pile and various projects underway, you might think you are entering the realm of either a multi-tasker or a multi-crastinator.

I’ll admit I am a bit of both.

Continuing on you will pass the cement mixer, the chopping block for cutting kindling. And upon entering my house you might notice various projects underway; drawings for construction projects, a pile of laundry, a guitar waiting for a new set of strings.

The kitchen table, like in most homes, is not just a place to sit and write, or draw, or eat, or to entertain. It is a repository, the place where items are left during the day and in the course of a week often can become what some people might consider ‘cluttered’.

I don’t see it that way. I see a cluttered table as a historic repository. Take mine for instance — as I gaze upon its contents I see the items that I have placed on it throughout the previous weeks or months.

For an example, right now my gaze goes to multiple bottles of vitamins that I started to employ this past summer, the use of which turned out to only last a few weeks, yet they remain perhaps as an impetus to start down the healthy vitamin taking road again. Behind them is a pile of scrap paper given to me by a friend that not only comes in handy for ‘notes to self’ but more importantly reminds me of that very dear friend.

Sitting on the paper is the bag of black beans that I have been meaning to soak and cook since, well, this past summer. They too wait their turn on my to-do list. To the left of the beans is a bottle of spray guitar polish that I bought, you guessed it, this past summer, along with a new set of guitar strings.

Put them on the list.

There is also an emptied can of black beans loaded with various writing implements: pencils for carpentry, pens out of ink, a couple of tooth brushes saved for finicky cleaning projects (see list) and some screw drivers that were important for some reason at some other time.

Behind the bean can is an emptied mustard crock pot and a candle saved for emergencies and some more useless pens. In front of the crock is a small bowl filled mostly with scavenged chestnuts that were picked up as a gift for the aforementioned dear friend who has, well, a penchant for nuts.

Also in the bowl is a bronze slide for guitar playing, which will certainly be employed once the new strings and polish are utilized.

Next to the bowl is a small cardboard box that contains my most prized possessions: trinkets for a necklace that needs repair that include items from various travels at sea and on land, along with a cuff link from my father, and a small depiction of a labyrinth given to me by the same dear friend I mentioned earlier.

Moving left and past the pile of mail (from this summer) is a rather fancy item that I used on a construction project — a laser level with a green light that was supposed to be easier to see but isn’t unless you use it early in the morning or when the sun goes down. But it is a reminder to stay on the level all day long.

In front of it are two chargers for screw guns which often get daily use. Finally two more items — a deck of fortune telling cards based on Taoist principles, perhaps the most utilized of all the other items, and a carving of a goddess’s face that is slated for another construction project.

One day I was stopped on my bike by a woman who asked, “Are you the guy who builds outdoor showers for goddesses?”

To which I answered, “Well, sure why not!”

Looking up goddesses for inspiration all I came across was Minerva the Goddess of war, which I thought inappropriate for an outdoor shower. Another item for the to-do list — more goddess inspiration.

But for now I have put cleaning the table at the top of my multi-crastinator list. Then, in the spring, I can review the winter’s activities, perhaps clean it again in preparation for the summer, starting fresh one more time with a tabula rasa, a clean slate, or, well, a clean table.

Joe Keenan lives in West Tisbury.