Letter Writing From A New Desk

Greetings from my desk of chaos. Actually, it looks pretty good right now—but pretty good is subjective and also relative for someone whose desk usually looks like many minor stationery explosions that have happened over the course of several years and have fossilized for eternity.

I have moved recently and part of that involved heaving all of my stationery into various boxes and taping them up. Now I am left with all of these boxes that need to be sorted through and organized and decluttered and used up. Rather than doing that, I’ve filled up this small bin of letter writing supplies and am slowly picking my way through it.

This bin! What a delight! I don’t know if decision fatigue is a real thing, but certainly I’m tired of making decisions in my life, especially the wrong ones, and having only a small bin of the remnants of envelope packs, the last of the booklets of stamps, the few remaining pages on a pad of writing paper, a few loose occasion-less greeting cards, has made it so much easier to get down to business and start catching up on some of my overdue correspondence.

Some seasons of life have made time for the pleasure of decorating my stationery and envelopes, or finding just the right pen and ink for my writing, and other seasons have meant continuing that thread of connection between two humans some distance apart, a little bit of magic tying us together.

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We’re chugging along!

Junia, age 3, has recently started this game where she’s a cat and she crawls around, wanting me to feed her like I would feed the cats treats. I think this may have something to do with the new dog, but I’m no child psychologist, and plus she’s pretending to be a cat and not a dog. Is that because she’s one of the now rejected animals? In any case, it was cute for maybe six seconds, but now I’m ready for her to stop meowing at me and to feed herself again. We’re all learning how to get by. A metaphor for life.