We keep things like Kleenex, the pencil sharpener, and the phone (at least the base for the phone) on his desk, so we can find them. And, I guess, also Churchill Wit, because you never know when you may need some.
It feels a little like Mark's desk is judging mine. Is it just me or is it a little smug?
Here's my desk.
Mark is scandalized. I think he's afraid it's contagious and his desk will become infected by it's across-the-room proximity to my desk.
Things are pretty bad.
There are stacks of the new Young Women detritus that is overtaking my life. There are parts and pieces of ill conceived ideas. There is a lot of school stuff. There are even gifts buried in there that are for my mom's birthday. Perhaps the phone is in there? I see Morgan's tie that he accidentally left here last month and the paper cutter Adam used and then left on Mark's desk. Mark moved it over to my desk, pinched between two fingers. He wants no part of any of it.
My desk is never pristine because I don't work that way, but this is seriously out of hand.
I can't work this way either.
I am going to hyperventilate or run away from home or maybe just break down and straighten up. The irony is that I've been so busy and preoccupied with other things that I let my desk get this way and now I can't function because it's so...well, you can see.
Once my mom told me (about one of my children) that I needed to take the day off and teach them who was boss.
I think I need to take the day off and teach my desk who is boss.
In the meantime, here's something from Albert Einstein:
If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?
At least my desk isn't empty.
No comments:
Post a Comment