A set of folders I’d almost forgotten I’d ordered arrived yesterday. They have drawings and watercolors of birds on them and they’ll be shown off on my desk in a white metal file holder labeled ‘Etc’ on the front. My lamp is almost useless if I actually need to see by its light, but it is lovely to me and the lamp shade is of some sort of waxed parchment so the glow is soft and warm. My favorite mottled blue coffee mug is almost always on my desk filled with our own house brew. I have two chairs in my office, not the comfortable padded ones with the levers to raise the heights or swirl around, but two Hitchcock Christmas chairs with old pillows as cushions. I sit in one and my cat claims the other one. He sleeps beside me while I work, company during those times when it seems like I have so much to do. A pair of candles in clear glass holders that some magician formed with clear vines and leaves on the surface illuminate the pages when I’m writing in my journal on dark, quiet mornings. The television is usually on TCM with an old black and white movie playing or if one of the old radio programs on XM radio is what I want instead, that is on so I can hear Suspense or Jack Benny or whether or not ‘only the Shadow knows for sure.’ My clock is a small silver and garnet affair that I could not resist and my calendar a birthday gift from a friend, a perpetual calendar like our friendship. On the warm sage green walls, I have framed and matted photographs of an Irish castle and an Irish gate from an extremely talented photographer I know along with a framed and matted set of four illustrations from my favorite childhood book, Five Run Away Together by the English author, Enid Blyton. I also have a set of stamps issued in England to honor Sherlock Holmes and a framed poster advertising William Gillette in the play, Sherlock Holmes. I’m a wannabe Brit and I can claim one sixth on my mother’s side. There are many more supplies in here, leather and fabric covered journals, books, small framed photographs, an ibis paperweight, rattan blinds on the windows and a Persian wool rug on the floor. Not to mention the flotsam and jetsam of my work.
Not to mention that at all.
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2 comments:
Not to mention the flotsum and jetsum at all. It's good to have an office reflecting our inner selves. I hope people who work in a cube (One family snapshot maximum) have some sort of office at home to express themselves. How else you going to find out who you are?
I love you both so much. Mainly because you "get it". You get that a lamp on a desk is about setting a tone and that its illumination is almost entirely internal.
I love that primary colored file folders aren't what you want to the house your plans, your accomplishments, your list of precious 'to do's'. That is not worthy of your poetic sensibilities.
I love that none of our desks are vaneered. None of them have built in file cabinets. None of them have locks on them.
The three of us create and plot and dream at our desks. We know what it means to be "at work".
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