I suspect that most of us writing here (or anywhere) are. If our minds didn't make up all those complications for us - some hilarious, other infuriating - we wouldn't need to scrub and rinse them out via our keyboard confessional.

And that probably includes all those writing '10 Ways to Declutter Your Mind and Live a Simple Life' articles.

Physician, declutter thyself!

I coincidentally also wrote a piece about dirty pans the other day.

'Did you write anything today,' my wife asked me that evening.

'Yeah, I wrote a first-person story from the perspective of the dirty scrambled egg pan in the dishwasher.'

She looked at me as if I was mad. She was probably right.

But I looked into the still-soiled metal disc of that pan and saw (not literally - I'm not ready for the straitjacket just yet) not the face of God, but a sentient being defiantly screaming 'I am the egg pan! Goo-goo-ga-joob'.

And had to go and write it down.

I don't think I would like simple and stress-free, even if that setting were available to my model of brain, which I don't believe it is.