I have a messy desk. I would like for it to be clean, but it just rarely is. Perhaps part of the reson is because it is at the garage door that our family primarily uses. Perhaps it is because I am not organized and can’t manage it properly. Perhaps it is because I don’t really use the space as a desk at all. I use it as a counter top. A catch-all countertop.

This post would have been most honest had I taken a picture of how the desk looked this Saturday morning. Now it is fresh and crisp and clean. Clean enough for Barbie’s friend to get married to her boyfriend this afternoon. If it’s clean enough for a wedding, it’s pretty clean.

Now I have this clean desk and now I am mostly past my odd angst/disappointment/frustration from yesterday and now it’s the weekend.

I figure I just really hate to be ignored. Or to at least feel I am being ignored. By anyone. If someone wants my attention, then you’ve got it. Turn it away when you’re done with it. But don’t get it then ignore it.

Like my desk. When we built this house, I really wanted that desk right there, beside the fridge. And like most things in the house, I got what I wanted. Why do I ignore it now? The desk is an inanimate object. It has no feelings, even if I want to personify it because of that cute curly-headed girl sitting under it. I’m going to keep that desk clean. I am. I will not ignore it, even if I have to put it aside from time to time.

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