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Mon May 16th, 2016
 | 09:10 pm - The minor fall, the-- minor lift
How does the universe tell you to clean your flipping desk (or Ikea table, as per) already? By moving your hand that silly millimetre that sends a cup of chocolate soy milk and dark chocolate milk flooding across its surface. Is now clean, very clean, but I need a new mouse pad because the 'never throw anything out' anime mousepad isn't where it should be.
Took a bunch of Tanizaki and Kawabata translations to BMV last week. They train their guys to sneer at whatever comes in, I swear it. This guy flipped through all the books, dropping the ones whose spines were cracked (not that I'd noticed) and unearthing three random bookmarks and a set of dateless Canadian stamps. So yeah, six dollars in cash and four dollars in stamps. Not to be sneezed at.
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I tend to have so much stuff on my desk or table that spilling any drink results in wild screams and curses as I scramble for paper towels and attempt to move everything out of the way before the growing floods can reach it. Looking over the papers that have pepsi or hot chocolate or some other brown confection splashed across them should tell me, quite simply, not to drink at my desk. Or if I must drink, to practice extreme mindfulness whenever I move an inch. Papers are one thing; cell phones quite another. |
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