Fitter, Happier

Dear Diary,

This morning, once the caffeine had kicked in to the point where I was losing peripheral vision and my legs wouldn’t stop moving, I sat back at my desk and observed my surroundings. I slouched down in my chair, put my feet up, and just looked around for 20 minutes or so. Specifically, I was wondering what my stuff says about me. I decided to make an inventory.

I have a postcard of chairs. Not just any chairs, designer chairs. I have a polaroid of plaid. I have two glasses, one with Mayor McCheese, the other with Shazam. I mean, SHAZAM!

I have a Hello Kitty calendar with stickers. Stickers, for god’s sake. I have lots of Hello Kitty stuff. Her saccharine cuteness is a good complement to my chronic sarcasm, not to mention occasional bitterness.

I have two clocks. One cost $2 at IKEA. One has Deng Xiao Ping on it. I’ve been told it has a Chairman Mao counterpart, but frequent searches on eBay have failed to turn it up. I need to find it. You may assume from this that I have some kind of sick obsession with fascist leaders, and perhaps you’ll be right.

I have a magnet that says “do one thing every day that scares you.” That’s easy. I just come to work.

I have photos. Many of cats: Cocoa as a kitten; Cookie, long before she had eye surgery and looked like an angry pirate; Chloe, fat and grey and happy. Paul, drunk, wearing my mom’s bra. Heather and I at high school graduation. I can’t believe my hair was ever that long. Heather sitting on a bronze guy’s lap in Duluth, back when we first started road tripping and that was the furthest extent of our ventures. Back when she dressed like a preppy girl and only liked boys.

I have my phone. I think I’ll put it under my desk. It’s useless to me. I have my headphones, wrapped up neatly in their cord, belying my obsessive neatness. They’re one of my best companions here at work, but there are rules when one is wearing headphones in order to drown out the outside world: specifically, one must be working. Not chatting. Not looking at porn. Not writing email. Unless one has a rearview mirror on their monitor.

So what does this say about me? I have a lot of ‘cute’ things, so that probably gives people the impression that I’m a nicer person than I really am. Perhaps that’s a good illusion to maintain.

Anyway. Back to work.

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