This is what I’m working in this morning:
If you know me, you know that I suffer from what I like to call, “Annoying clean office phobia.”
That is, I do not function well in messy environments. Ironically enough, I’m not all that tidy of a person, so this especially paradoxical. See those piles on the corner? Yeah, trying to ignore that. See that stuff on the space in front of me? Yeah, that’s driving me crazy. Oh, and if you look closely, you’ll even see a black leather jacket laying on the floor next to my bookshelf. Embarrassing, right? Calendars falling off the wall… coffee mug from Wednesday… it’s getting ugly, people. There are even remains from Halloween in my office–that blue dress draped over my black chair–I was going to wear that for our GAG Night and decided not to, in which case it circulated the office and has now landed back in mine, and I have not put it back in the Costume closet yet. It has come to this.
This morning, however, I am living in my mess. My office has imploded on itself. If you know me at all, you know that while many other rooms of my life may be disasters, my office–hardly ever. Clean, tidy, and put together. It’s a façade, really. I know it. Because this–this is how I really feel this morning. Too excited about this weekend to care about cleaning my desk. Too many people to talk to, events to plan, and things to do. Too enthralled with the snow falling out my window and wondering if we are going to make it up to Michigan alright to sort through that pile of endless paper.
Today I choose mess. And I am okay with it.
anne m. wilson 