I have a tendency to keep my room messy. When it’s messy, everything is in its rightful place. That bobby pin is on the floor right next to the door. Those tweezers are underneath the bed (you forgot to pick them up when they fell). Deodorant is under the pillow (from when you tossed it on your bed after rushing out). That one tank top you always wear is on the floor in the closet (you tossed it there last time you wore it). To me, having a messy room beats digging through drawers and rooting through bags to find what I need. When I described my room to someone and talked about how my room wasn’t actually messy (there was just stuff everywhere), I mentioned the pile of clothes on top of my desk.
“So it’s a table?”
No it’s a desk.
“You put stuff on tables, but desks are used for work. Do you use your desk for work?”
“So it’s a table, not a desk.”
And so maybe he was right. My desk has all the essentials, a desk lamp, a dictionary, a book (that I was supposed to use to help me launch my writing career (I’m currently still not a writer)), a staple, a small organizer with pencils, pens, and sticky notes (the works), and a package of Oreos (Double Stuffed) in the desk drawer (you never know when you’ll need a quick pick-me-up or something to snap my writers block into two (kinda like how yesterday after I finished my run in the Hell’s Heat, I felt so horrible that when I stopped to pick up a box of tampons, I tossed the lovely Oreos in with my other purchases)). And even though I have everything I need on my desk to make it a desk, I also have all my makeup scattered across it so it currently looks like a makeup table, my makeup bag basically threw up all over it. The great part is that I don’t even use half the makeup that’s there.
But the fact is that my desk (table, sorry) is cluttered so I’m sitting on my desk chair leaning against the wall with my laptop on my lap (because that’s what it’s for anyway). The keyboard feels a little foreign mostly because I haven’t used my laptop in about a week or so (I accidentally spilled Big Red all over my keyboard (and trackpad) and the mouse was acting up, so every now and then I have to give it a nice break, (but I won’t tell my mom this because this laptop was expensive)). I’ll just suffer the consequences of drinking an open cup of Big Red while using my computer in silence. (I feel like that’s very grown up of me.)
Maybe the time is finally here. I’m at that point where I’m learning valuable life lessons that I can blog about to my readers so that they can learn something from me. I’ll be an internet sensation (like I always say I dream about) and Harper Collins will want to buy my blog because I’m a real girl learning (really important) real life things. Like Laura’s Life Lesson #1: Don’t drink and type. (As much as you would like to ignore it, you are a very clumsy person and despite your best efforts, you WILL knock over your 32 oz. Stripes cup onto your Macbook and ruin your life in the process.)
And Laura’s Life Lesson #2 (that I heard from someone else, so it’s more like valuable advice from a third party observer): A desk is not a desk if you use it as a table. (Like if all it has is clothes you wore three days ago (that you only wore for a few hours so they can’t be deemed dirty) and makeup and books from the library (that i swear I meant to return three weeks ago) and you don’t actually do work on it, it’s acting as a table.)m