By Anna Marie
The general status of my desk is dirty, cluttered yet sparse.
I eat at my desk and the crumbs linger
Visible crunchy reminders of meals long digested
There’s a ring where I leave my drink every day
And it’s discolored in the region where my keyboard resides
Sticky notes litter my desktop
Emerging from the dark caverns under my harddrive
Hovering at the base of my monitor
Clinging, with final bits of adhesive, to the cabinet above my head
Begging for me to remember
Beneath all the crumbs and sticky notes
There is nothing.
No cheerful plant, no tacked up calenders, no memos
No photos of familiar faces or dreamy locations
Not even a funny or thought-provoking coffee cup
If you’re desk represents who you are as a person
I’m a disorganized, messy, overworked bore.