On My Desk
I was sitting on the top floor of a vertically positioned building in the downtown of a small mountain town in North Carolina when I first felt this way. The building, not the feeling, is about thirty minutes from my house, and, incidentally, the town is the location of the children’s home where my grandpa grew up.
I was in a writing class. One of us was asked to empty our purse to provide a writing prompt for the class. And mirth.
I, the mother of small children that I was, seemed like the most fecund source for purse-related prompts. My bag looked a little like a junior carpet bag and contained a bizarre collection of things including (according to my notes) a flashlight, a harmonica, three tubes of oil paint: titanium white, cobalt blue, and orange, hair ties, lip gloss, bubbles, and a needlepoint project. These were not all of the things I had in my purse. There was also a stick lighter for candles, a pacifier, a burp cloth, a wallet with no cash, and a pile of wadded up receipts.
It is uncomfortable to let the actuality of your life out of its decorative wrapping.
Now I’ve done it to myself. The prompt for today is, “A List of Things on My Desk.” Sigh.
A 15” MacBook Pro. I am proud of this because it means I just cleaned my desk…
My pilgrimage organizational binder done on the cheap—post it notes for tabs cheap.
A pharmacy receipt that I need to turn in to my insurance because they don’t like to cover medications for sexual health without extra leg work. But cancer doesn’t get to take that away.
A list of names to add to the MailChimp mailing list. Names on a list equal success these days.
A promo key chain flashlight with my name inscribed on the side. The pen company from which I ordered swag pens thinks I might be interested in ordering flashlights to give away. I’m not. I still have pens left.
My dissertation notebook. I bought a beautiful 3” D ring binder. I thought it would quickly fill with my research. It has less than a quarter inch of paper clipped inside; two sheets are medical deferrals. The cover is dusty. The idea is dusty.
My Bible
A pile of two books and four notebooks because one should read and write.
A filled planner, a planner with a week left, and a new planner with a December 5 start date. Planning is important.
A punch card for the Retrocade.
Directions for a knitting loom written by Google translate.
Chore checklists.
A form to fill out for a new swim team.
A music box in the shape of a piano with my name engraved on it, which is now covered by five puffy stickers.
A birthday card.
A decorative pad that used to be a diaper changing pad. I washed it first.