her able hands

I wish I had thought to take a before picture, because the after is lovely but the context is missing.

This is what I spent a good part of my Saturday afternoon working on. In order to get the corner writing desk to this state of order I had to move six boxes of paperwork and old bills that have been stacked there since we moved in. The bottom box was a hodge podge of old AC adptors, license plates, CD cleaners, a cassette tape for learning Greek (!), dozens of concert tickets, a Ross Perot for President button, the reciept and other pieces of paperwork from the purchase of my first car. This, however, was not my box. This was a box Chris has apparently moved with him everywhere he’s ever gone since we left California in 1989 and split up. That was the car he bought me when we lived out there, a sweet red 5-speed Escort GT. Everything in the box was vintage ’80s. And smelled like it.

The small things I put in a cigar box with similar slips of paper, notes, tickets stubs and reciepts. The rest? Shhhhh.

So now I have this lovely spot to sit at the laptop without internet distraction, my Moleskines (one for garden writing, one for goals and such) and the books I use most often. See the Laura Ingalls Wilder? That’s the one Sandra gave me for inspiration. I read it often and have a ton of notes for response essays I want to write, but the notes pile up, the days fly by and alas, I’m way behind. But now it’s right there and the writing will come. I’m ready.

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