Consider the computer desk.
Some desks are a jumble of papers, machines, wires, routers, pencils, pens, and other office supplies we deem important. In my case it's sticky notes, paper clips and a rubber band ball. Of course, I've never, ever used a rubber band ball to actually retrieve a rubber band for use, but I've always felt like I should have one. Just in case. In addition to the practical, there is often an element of quirky that goes into the mix. At home, my monitor is decorated with three plastic rubber duckies, and a pelican beanie baby. They are the guardians of my computer and they watch over me while I work.
Some desks are neat, clean, open-spaced surfaces. These are very appealing to me on a certain level, mostly because all these elements are so seldom present in my life. They speak to calm and orderliness, two things for which I strive but seldom achieve.
Writing from a borrowed desk this week, I'm intrigued by my surroundings. The desk definitely falls into the jumble category, but I don't say that in any sort of accusatory manner. In fact, it has a real homey quality to it, and while I sit here, I don't feel as if I'm intruding. Instead I feel as if I can slip in, do my work and then quietly leave without anybody noticing.
Near the monitor is a wonderful ribbon board. It's full of cards, bumper stickers, button and other assorted trinkets. Just like my guardian duckies, everything here has a special meaning to the owner of this desk. Maybe the computer is the heart of our electronic universe. But the desk, the desk is its soul.