2001-06-28 - 6:44 a.m.
Some people report on important things. Under the microscope, the small things are the important things. Presidents give a state of the union address, governors give a state of the state address, and all I can think to give is a state of the office address.
Although my home often seems decorated in early tornado, my office usually could belong to Mr. CleanĖas long as Mr. Clean needs cataract surgery and therefore misses some dust. I knew there was a contrast between the two places but I didnít realize how much until yesterday.
Yesterday, a file commandeered my office. It needed reorganizing and, as all my co-workers passed by, I was at that cleaning stage where things must look exponentially worse before they can look any better. The file had billeted court orders, briefs, and correspondence all over the floor, the bookshelves, the desk, and the pictures of my kids.
ďIf I go to lunch, will I be able to find you when I get back?Ē asked one amazed co-worker. I started to explain my schedule when I suddenly realized that this apparent concern for my comings and goings really was a comment on the state of my office. (I often start to explain things very earnestly before I notice that Iím being kidded. If they ever intent a tease detector, Iíll buy it if itís reasonably priced.)
One by one, my co-workers commented on the mess. They were so sure it was out of character. Youíd think these people had never been to my house. Actually, come to think of it, most of them have come to my house but only after Iíve tortured the children and husband into straightening up. No wonder they were so surprised.
Eventually, I won the battle and re-captured the file. I imprisoned it back in the file cabinet with its comrades and shredded what it left behind.
And once again the state of my office is just fine.
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