Rich inlay, many little cubbies
I have a desk now. I have a new tall bookcase, and my books are all out of their boxes. The boxes are out of my room. The difference that it makes.
In my desk, there are many little drawers and cubbies. I have more or less found a spot for all the miscellanea I schlepped around the Bay Area in little shoeboxes for five years and then across the country. They are little drawers for my pens, another for my post-its, a place for my checkbooks, stamps and envelopes, another cubby for note cards, one for notebooks.
I've pulled out decorative candles and framed family photos. It's been a while since I've had those out -- at least a year and a half. That is a luxury I haven't known in some time, to set out objects solely for the look of them.
I can't say what a relief it is, and how it was nice to spend the first day of snowfall curled around a mug of floral Russian tea at my orderly desk with its warm sepia stain and beautiful inlay. What satisfaction it was to discover how it matched the side table borrowed from Michele. How nice it is to see all my books out, colorful spines arrayed across the east wall of my bedroom. The joy of having just about everything in its place.
(Nevermind the modest pile of papers in the corner. I'll do away with them soon enough.)
I think the day would only be better if I were to make it to mass. I'll go out and shovel snow in a bit, and I'll think about it.
It's totally doable. It would be good for me. I probably should do it.
In my desk, there are many little drawers and cubbies. I have more or less found a spot for all the miscellanea I schlepped around the Bay Area in little shoeboxes for five years and then across the country. They are little drawers for my pens, another for my post-its, a place for my checkbooks, stamps and envelopes, another cubby for note cards, one for notebooks.
I've pulled out decorative candles and framed family photos. It's been a while since I've had those out -- at least a year and a half. That is a luxury I haven't known in some time, to set out objects solely for the look of them.
I can't say what a relief it is, and how it was nice to spend the first day of snowfall curled around a mug of floral Russian tea at my orderly desk with its warm sepia stain and beautiful inlay. What satisfaction it was to discover how it matched the side table borrowed from Michele. How nice it is to see all my books out, colorful spines arrayed across the east wall of my bedroom. The joy of having just about everything in its place.
(Nevermind the modest pile of papers in the corner. I'll do away with them soon enough.)
I think the day would only be better if I were to make it to mass. I'll go out and shovel snow in a bit, and I'll think about it.
It's totally doable. It would be good for me. I probably should do it.
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