As she looked at her desk, she began to wonder if her life was as cluttered as it:
two necklaces; five earrings (one was missing); a watch; a bracelet; pens (many didn’t work); glasses; a tube of M&M minis; two half used books of matches; a candle with a cracked case; five rubber-bands in an array of colors; a sewing kit with two patterns half cut out; a penguin toy; four pairs of scissors (why did they always disappear when you need them); dozens of CD’s (she probably had more CD’s on her desk than Amazon.com had in their collection); enough books to start a library; scrap-booking supplies; nail-polish; concert dates; pictures of friends; a photo of her and her grandpa.
She didn’t know where to begin. It just sat there, like she did, wondering.
As she attempted to organize her desk, piles of clutter built elsewhere, like her bed. But it always returned to the same spot before bed time.
Everything had a purpose on her desk.
It just didn’t have a place.
“Oh well,” she muttered. She walked away.