The Dread Pirate (Desk) Roberts

I tackled the desktop last night. I'm nowhere near done, but there are pockets of order, and I am encouraged. This morning I worked on the top left drawer. Found the receipt for the first Christmas gift he gave me. Three two-dollar bills. A picture of my mother-in-love on one of her birthdays, when the twins were very young and Squishy was still bitty and a towhead. Two copies of Beloved's birth certificate. FirstWife's driver's license. Multiple checkbooks, the contents of which are now shredded. A copy of two un-notarized wills: one for 2009, after FirstWife's passing, and the other midway through 2012, as the cancer was gathering strength but before we went to my attorney to draw up a formal will for Beloved and an updated one for me. Fifty bajillion index cards, some of them in dayglo colors. (What was his fascination with index cards?) His draft card. A picture of him in martial arts garb with two other guys in their mid-20's. Wax on, wax off.

I have done enough shredding this morning to qualify as runner-up for the Rosemary Woods Memorial Document Destruction Award. I've worked through half of the contents of the front third of one drawer. There are five more drawers. I might get the top of the big section of the desk cleared off tonight before bedtime. I'd already made a pass through some of the drawers at one time or another in the past two and a half years. So it's not as bad as it could be. But between Beloved and his mother, I am probably set with office supplies for the rest of my natural life.

It would be ever so much worse if Beloved had been a hoarder like the children's father. Thankfully, he was not. But there is still a whale of a lot to sort through. I entertain myself with the vision of how pretty that corner is going to look with the desk gone and my rocking chair or the chair-and-a-half of my friend installed in that corner.

I'm about half done with the gusset on the second pink baby sock.

And now if you will all excuse me, I'm going to tuck those $2 bills into my purse, knit one and only one round on the sock, and get myself ready for work. This is ward temple night, but there's a distinct possibility that I will be working overtime, instead. I put in an hour and 45 minutes last night on a somewhat urgent special project.

Yarn money.