May 28, 2003

Forty Miles of Elbow Room

How about 2 square feet of elbow room. This is what I have, in total, to actually use on my genuine yard-sale wood-simulated particle-board desktop. Of course some real estate is taken up necessarily with speakers, telephone, cup with pens and pencils, wooden stacking trays topped with gooseneck desk lamp, ergonomic keyboard, pine monitor stand. Remaining, I have two square feet of luxurious space to spread out bank statements, CD's to burn, bills to pay, an assortment of statements from investment companies with an update... no, maybe one should call them 'down-dates'... of our most current financial worth(lessness). And then there is the stratum under that. An old National Geographic. A new Photoshop Book ('for digital photographers'... that is way, WAY over my head); somewhere the D-hub with my camera memory card still in it with the picture of the fern; some free offers if you respond by March 31, 2003!; a half dozen business cards from old, majorly old, friends encountered at a recent wedding in the town we lived in back during the Cretaceous, several of them I actually emailed, none of them replying, which alas, is usual and customary amongst our particular flavor of old friend); and down their against bedrock of simulated mahogany, a not-so-fine layer of Goose Creek road dust and various pollens, in patches undisturbed in the course of living memory, which by the way, is a resource more finite and shrinking than desktop space. On top of all of the various sediments, like the finale in a vaudeville balancing act, I have just now placed one dish with toast and foxgrape jelly, one tupperware bowl with sliced strawberries, and an insulated mug of Chocolate-flavored Ovaltine, the drink of choice for Captain Midnight, who a mere 50 years ago sent me the Fantastic Decoder Ring along with a certificate of authenticity. It's down under the National Geographic. Maybe.

Can you tell? I'm killing some time offline, waiting for Ann to call me back. Does she indeed have a paycheck being auto-deposited in the bank tomorrow? Or will our mortgage check richochet like a Roy Rogers silver bullet off a Colorado boulder on June 01?

And there lies Buster behind me at the top of the step (banished forever from the newly-carpeted room where the computer lives). Slobbering expectantly. He could care less about our friends, our bank accounts, our cluttered lives, or our memories. As long as he gets the tiny dry corners from my two pieces of toast, life is as it should be. Give him this day his daily bread.

Hmmm. Maybe he's on to something.

Posted by fred1st at May 28, 2003 08:12 AM | TrackBack
Comments

Fred, your desk sounds like our counter. You make it sound like an archeological happening. And, even if you think this is another "me too" post on the subject of clutter, I am boldly going to hit "post" instead of aborting and sneaking away in cowardly fashion as I so often have before. Thank you for your posts over the last two weeks which I often nearly commented on but didn't. :)

Posted by: Pica at May 28, 2003 09:07 AM

I thought you had a sneak look at my desk!

Hope both you and Buster feel much better, very soon.
Shalom
Jan

Posted by: Jan at May 28, 2003 04:12 PM

Just found your blog via that Possum guy. I had to laugh at your post about almost-blogcomments cos I do the same thing only on the lefty political sites. Nine paragraphs into some highfalootin discourse on the fine points of illegal vrs legal settlements in the Middle East I'll get cold feet and erase it. Go figure.

Anyway, nice to meet you and I'll stop by again.

Posted by: vachon at May 28, 2003 08:41 PM

Neener, neener...mine got cleaned today...not by me of course but a nice lady who graciously agreed to muck out the manse for a mere arm and a leg.

It was time...the dust bunnies were imploding from the weight of new dust.

The dog before the current pup (TDBTCP) was the master of the last bite ...he lived in hope of there being a last bite of anything. Not a pushy begger he...very subtle..long soulful looks...head tilted just so he was extra cute, a gentle sigh as the size of a food item approached last bite status...sometimes a little snuffle of anticipation.

TCP hasn't yet been afflected with "last biteitis"...but he has "the look" down pat...we're holding out.

Posted by: feste at May 29, 2003 01:16 AM

Good ol' Buster. Cats and dogs routinely remind us of what's important. Same with kids. We need to listen carefully to the lessons they hand out.

Posted by: Da Goddess at May 29, 2003 02:09 AM

And I was doing such a good job of ignoring the clutter on my desk until I read this!

Posted by: bogie at May 29, 2003 05:49 AM

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