Work Space Confessions

Mrs. Taggart told my mom that my desk was messy.  She showed her all the incomplete worksheets, and complete worksheets, crammed into my pocket school desk.  I don’t remember or not if she dug out the love notes from Christopher or not, but they were in there, too.  I remember.  That was first grade.

Today, for the umpteenth time, I reassured a concerned and embarrassed parent that their child - guilty of cramming study guides and other such paperwork in the bottom of backpacks, leaving them strewn and tucked about in a classroom, or “accidentally” throwing them away before they had a chance to make it home - would be OK.  Once again today, I confessed my own history of congested administrative arteries.  My own paperwork circulatory system has long been crippled.

This is not the first time I’ve confessed these office sins here.  But, yet again, I feel the need to bare my truths. 

Truths, like this…

 

Go ahead. Click on it to dig deeper.  It’s quite revealing.

Just outside of this photo you might find other random items, such as: a used ink cartridge waiting for me to take to school for our corporate contributions drive, a spool of pink grosgrain ribbon, a bottle of nail polish, two bobby pins, two pen caps from the remaining MIA writing utensils after BabyGirl’s weekend round of oh-so-NOT-cute game of “Pen Bandit” (i.e. hiding uncapped pens all over the house, sending me into a mad panic as I franticly envisioning large pools of black ink on my upholstered furniture), a scratched pair of sunglasses I need to throw away (Never mind. Just checked that one off the list.), and – le pièce de résistance – a 3/4-inch plastic dog tail.  Not the dog…just the tail.

 

While I am an extremely cyclic person and tend to have bouts of neat & tidy organization followed by stretches of “I’ll deal with this later – bigger fish to fry today,” disarray, I have come to accept my piles.  It is a love-hate relationship I have with them.  I hate the actual piles and feelings of dissatisfaction and frustration I get from them, but I love the processes from which they result. 

1. Good intentions.  Look – I buy a book about organizing my space and my life…I read some of it…I get overwhelmed by the first week checklist telling me to get a minimum of 7 hours of sleep per night (I wish), jot a To Do list each morning (Have you met my daughters?), start a journal (check), limit television (check), schedule 2-minute breaks two to three times a day to “just be” (whaaa???), practice meditating (I’d love to…), schedule time to exercise (I try), schedule more “me time” (more than the six minutes per day???), eliminate energy drains on your life (You want me to retire and move away?), and “take control” of your time (This lady’s an idiot.)…ALL IN THE FIRST WEEK!!!  If I could do that in a week, why the heck did I need to buy this freaking 52-week guide to organizing my life???

2. Creative endeavors.  Cooking, sewing, writing, photography…This is the good stuff. I love these things. If those parts of my life leave evidence on my surroundings, so be it.  I will leave my mark happily.

3.  Thrift. On second thought, perhaps this should go in the “good intentions” category. 

4. Motherhood.  Ask me why I have pink grosgrain ribbon, a crumpled-up-no-longer-sticky post-it note with a butterfly drawn on it, random pen caps floating, a funky popsicle stick flower stuck in a wooden pot, a Lois Lowry chapter book, a sea green crayon and a Hello Kitty digital camera on my desk.  My babies.  I love my babies.  This is my life and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

One of my favorite quotes comes from an unlikely source.   

“Homes are for free expression, not first impressions.”

My piles are not a problem, they are a side effect of an alive and wonderfully diverse mind.

 

 

Now, my desk at work is a whole different story…but that’s another post entirely.

This post was submitted as a part of the {W}rite-of-Passage: Challenge #9.