6.24.2006
the end of time
One of my ongoing projects is to unpack and assimilate the contents of the cartons we still have in the basement. Most are from our move, but a few contain the remnants of my office. So in an effort to retrieve a seriously cool orange plastic Ikea container, I had to dump out its contents (basically, all my desk accessories) and figure out what to do with them. Among the galvanized metal pencil cups, retro stapler and Italian spiral paper clips, I found the desk calendar I'd been using. It was the Shoes Gallery Calendar, the kind that comes in a display frame, where you slide out yesterday's card each morning to reveal today's date. Each day has a different image of a historic shoe (whether clog, chopine, slipper or pump).
I pulled it out of the Ikea box and looked at the image on the front. A beaded t-strap from 1930s Europe--not one of my favorites, to be sure, but it was the date that caught my eye: August 2, 2005, the day that my life ended--or, you might say, the day that it really got started. I left the office on August 2 to have my labor induced, and consequently never flipped another page on my desk calendar again. Which, when you think about it, is quite a wonderful metaphor for why I'm in no hurry to get back to my 9-to-5 life.
I pulled it out of the Ikea box and looked at the image on the front. A beaded t-strap from 1930s Europe--not one of my favorites, to be sure, but it was the date that caught my eye: August 2, 2005, the day that my life ended--or, you might say, the day that it really got started. I left the office on August 2 to have my labor induced, and consequently never flipped another page on my desk calendar again. Which, when you think about it, is quite a wonderful metaphor for why I'm in no hurry to get back to my 9-to-5 life.
