So. Today, we will be discovering the answer to a question that I have been asking myself for a very long time:
What, exactly, is all this crap on my desk?
Every time I sit down to write, I first have to shift things off the keyboard. Which distracts me* and I forget what it was I was going to write, so I surf for inspiration, and end up looking at pictures of cute baby animals and wondering what I would name my baby tapir**.
Right. My desk. COVERED in crap. Although, I choose to blame my husband. Or the children. Because they're messy. Obviously, none of this junk is mine.
Well, my mug is on here, but that's because it's my special tea mug, and I'm drinking tea while I write. I'll probably move it when I'm done. So it doesn't count.
Okay, so that snowman over there is mine too. I suppose I could get rid of that. It's a thank you note from Beege's teacher though, and it's always nice to be appreciated.
And the USB cord and the camera. Well, but I need them to be out. I use them every day! How else could I upload pictures of my favourite mug? Geez, this keyboard is dusty. Ignore that.
A few of these envelopes are mine, but mostly they're the husband's. That guy has some serious paper hoarding issues. He really does need to learn how to clean up after himself.
The box of tissues is totally his. Although, I do use it. Nothing worse than reading something sad and not having some tissues close by.
Pipe cleaners! AHA! For them, I blame the children! And the paper bag panda? So nothing to do with me.
Okay, what the hell is this doorknob doing here? That's weird. Do we really not have a place that we keep stuff like this?
You see, Kee was swinging from her doorknob a while ago and the damn thing fell off. Husband got a new one, but it was one with a key, and I didn't think it would be a good idea for the girls to be able to lock us out of their room. So they just don't have a doorknob.
But this new one doesn't belong on the desk.
Neither does the art kit, the rhythm stick, the pencil case, the dinosaur, this pile of coasters, the stale gingerbread house, the butterfly net, the Halloween bucket, the miner's headlamp, or the stack of thermometers. (Why do we have a stack of thermometers?)
And none of that is mine.
Which really doesn't matter, because I'll clean it up anyway. Then maybe I'll be able to write about something other than the crap on my desk.
Wish me luck, because really, I'm doing this for you guys.
I'm very magnanimous.
*Not like that's hard, I mean... oooh! Shiny!
**I'm thinking "Captain Jack".