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Wednesday, May 17, 2006There Are Oak Trees In My OfficeSix, to be exact. We had a bumper crop of acorns last fall. Evidently, this happens on some sort of cycle, but what do I know? True, it did feel a bit more dangerous than usual out there, with acorns zinging down through the branches at an alarming rate (and missing my skull by mere inches). The result? Hundreds upon hundreds of baby oak trees in our yard this spring. A couple of weeks ago, Jonathan presented me with six sprouted acorns -- that is, six acorns that had wee saplings emerging from within their split hulls. Honestly, it's amazing to ponder the potential. Think of the mighty oak, and how its humble beginning was not unlike the baby sprouts that my nature-loving son handed to me. I personify just about everything in my life, so I found the baby oaks adorable. Jonathan stuck them in a plastic pot, plopped them in front of my little window, and admonished me to water them regularly (he knows I have a tendency to kill things). And that's why I've got oak trees in my office. Mind you, it's not much of an office. Like the oak saplings, it's got loads of potential. The room is tucked under the eaves on the third story of our home. It's irregularly shaped, with a ceiling that slopes deeply on either side, and a sweet window that faces the street far below. And best of all, it's got a door. With a lock. I've got a wonderful vision for my little haven: red toile wallpaper, hardwood floor, cream-colored love seat, French country desk, and lots of bookshelves. Oh, and candles. Right now, my "dream office" is merely a skeleton. Bare floorboards, naked drywall, and a window without a sill are its main components. The unfinished space is cluttered with boxes and piles of "stuff" that really need to go somewhere else. My scrapbooking table (a folding card table pushed against the back wall) is a disaster. And pages from second and third and fourth novel drafts are everywhere. Literally everywhere. A tall box containing a seven-and-a-half foot Majestic Pine Christmas tree stands to my left. In the corner by the window sits our family Valentine Box. A disabled printer is balanced on top of a plastic container that holds -- I'm not sure what. A synth rack leans by the doorway, and the empty box from my fairly new e-machine is still stashed against the wall. In short, it's a mess in here. The rest of my house doesn't look like this (with the possible exception of the children's bathroom). I can't stand clutter. I can't stand it when things aren't where they belong. I go ballistic every time I trip over one of Eric's shoes. His shoes are everywhere. I swear. I'm not Homemaker of the Year by any stretch. I hate cleaning and I do it in small, Flylady increments to keep my house presentable. I don't really care if there are crumbs in my toaster or four-year-old mouse turds behind my refrigerator (never you mind). To me, there are more important things to pursue than Housecleaning Nirvana. Still. I hate clutter. And the atmosphere in my office is starting to make me feel like my brain is imploding. Thus my dilemma. I need to write today. I need three solid hours to work out some problems from a few chapters ago so that I can move forward. But if I don't do something about the state of my lil' writing hole, I'm not sure how coherent my work will be. The oak trees don't seem to mind. They're quietly stretching their leaves toward the gray light outside the window, and seem content to do so. Oh, I get it. They are actually turning their leaves away from the bloody mess in this office. Poor things. Maybe I could, at the very least, chuck the Christmas tree into the storage space and pick up my scattered manuscript pages. Or maybe I could just go get myself a fresh cup of coffee and stare at the baby oak trees for a while. You know exactly which option I'm going to choose, don't you? |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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9of my readers are feeling chatty:
Your office sounds like mine, only yours sounds a little cleaner. I'd planned to clean it today, but who has time with all the blog reading I have to catch up on?
Yeah, I find that the last room in the house to get cleaned around this place is the office! I just reclaimed mine over the weekend and so far so good!
How did the cleaning and writing go?
At first glance I read "Red TOILET wallpaper"... what an odd desire for your writing niche.
I write under the inspiration of Russian potty gods.
Here's something to ponder wile sucking down the coffee and contemplating the growth speed of the oaks:
"A clean desk is the sign of a sick mind."
I am perfectly healthy, thank you very much!
"My Office"
An off-the-cuff poem thing
by Dave Hanks
ahem...
I sits on my chair and wonder where
my paper or pen may have gone.
I look in the drawer, though not really sure
if the pulsing glob there belongs.
I says to myself, "perhaps on the shelf"
and trip over Kayden's toy car.
I land on my face, in my old suitcase
and am hit on the head by a bar.
Sunflower seeds, and other debris,
fly all over the floor
while papers slide off, and dust makes me cough,
my wife hits my head with the door.
Three file cabinets, covered with magnets,
filled to the top with junk,
computer books, an old shepard's crook, and a story why Titanic sunk.
Photos of me, and my kids three,
a very cute girl in green,
three computers, two printers, two good and one dead,
Sit on the sill above the Bugs bed.
Alas I cry, methinks should be I,
to fix this disaster site,
so I can survive, at least stay alive, whenever I sit down to write.
The end.
Oh my gosh, Dave just made me laugh myself to tears. :-D
At first glance I read "Red TOILET wallpaper"... what an odd desire for your writing niche.
For as often as Jill writes about poop such a papering would seem appropriate for her office. ;-)
Standing ovation, Dave!
Sweatpants -- Now that's scary! :)
Gail -- Cleaning AND writing? You're not serious? :) I finished the problem-fixing in chapter 12, so I'm doing a happy dance. Thanks for asking!
Dave -- Astounding. To think that my discombobulated office would inspire instantaneous verse. I'm impressed!
Hey, I hear Poetry.com is looking for fresh, new talent to pay absolutely nothing for..... :D
Kerrie! LOLOL
Well I've been in your office and it's not that bad. LMSO @ the little leaves turning away from the bloody mess. Too funny!
Hey thanks Kerrie, Jerry, Jillery!
I for got to mention the rabid spider monkeys living in the closet, but that's a whole 'nother poem thing.
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