I've been in one of those pensive moods that I find myself in periodically. Rather than spout off the first bit of gibberish that comes to mind, I sit back, listen and watch. However, I haven't been actually sitting on my tush, either. I just finished re-working the home office. I couldn't tolerate the tiny desk any longer and was trying to figure out a way to get a bigger desk for very little cost. As chance would have it, one of the tenants in the building where I work passed away and her husband was cleaning out her office. Lo and behold there was the perfect desk. Free.
But it stayed there because it was too big to fit through the door into my home office. Sigh. So, my hubby graciously offered to swap desks. I now have a nice, big desk and he's got my tiny one. He doesn't use the home office much anyway. His work station is in the dining room. All over the dining room. Okay, it isn't even a dining room anymore. It's the chaos room. I just lower my eyes and walk passed it.
Here's the incident that pretty well sent me into this current state of pensivity (if that is a real word). When I was down in the tenant's office looking at the "perfect" desk, I looked into the boxes that were piled here and there. Odd cassette tapes, candle stubs lying beside their overturned holders, an assortment of papers and old software manuals, and other odds and ends. Is this what is left of us when we are done on this side and move across to the other? Is this what we boil down to: scraps of STUFF that complete strangers paw through? Yes, it is.
I didn't exactly feel all that sad because I only saw the lady occasionally over the last year, but I felt distinctly weird. And I'm now kind of glad that I didn't take her desk.