[written] at the office

i have secret lists at the back of my to-do notebook, which is where i'm writing this now. lists of graduate schools, with pros and cons sublisted, outline-style; lists of autumn things to do in ny; lists of things i may one day use in a story.

when i leave at the end of the day, i try neatening my desk, which basically consists of piling papers--

i like sending my boss emails where the entire message is in the subject line--

and books largest to smallest, and straightening my stapler so that it's parallel to my rolodex. most days i just want to let it go to hell. today i actually did.

i leave little post-its to myself all over the space in front of my keyboard. i try to write trim and careful because 1) other people see them, & 2) i'm more inclined to do the task if it comports itself well. it's like saying 'please' to myself.

yesterday i read the most wonderful thing: 'emily dickinson would have loved the internet....i wonder if emily dickinson would have a blog, though. maybe she would be an internet recluse in addition to being a social recluse.'

i took my mom to the airport at 4.30 this morning, so now i'm going to sleep (with all the windows open, and blankets tripled up--it's so chilly out, and who knew how loud the 'burbs were? crickets crickets crickets crickets crickets crickets crickets.)