Friday, May 22, 2009

My Office Burned Down

My office burned down. I was restless at home, unable to go to my familiar place. Limped around my husband's office. A day later mine was back, beautifully pristine, but every file drawer empty, desktop spotless.

Barely another blink. My office was crammed full again, but filled with old crap. I wandered around like a time traveler, picking up this or that item from 2006. Worse than the real thing, sea of silly notes, names that were once important, barely begun projects that I know are now beautiful, now finished.

But where is my real office? The one my father said was joined to my hip when I last traveled home. It's just in my brain, now, my brain that strikes, refuses to work without external memory. And that special kind of memory, long term.

I could try to reconstruct. Scattered CDs claim they have some of these projects in various stages. Collaborators and students can send me the manuscript drafts I once sent them. Unless its all returned intact from the magic of the clean room. I live in limbo.

1 comment:

john Galt said...

OMG! Cummington st? How?