Who moved the kleenex box?
There are three things on the corner of my writing desk - a lamp, a box of kleenex, and something very special to me. It was a gift from a dear friend that I cherish.
Every morning, when I sit down to write, I take a moment to look over at that scrabble tray. It reminds me to believe in my dreams, to believe in myself, to believe in my passion for writing.
The lamp and the kleenex box are there for practical purposes only. Or so I thought. Until the day the kleenex box went missing.
I sat down to write, glanced over to the corner of the desk, and something was wrong. My hands froze on the keyboard. I looked around my office, but I didn't see it.
"Where's my kleenex box?" I yelled.
"There're kleenex boxes all over the house," my daughter said.
"Not a kleenex box, my kleenex box. You know, the orange one with the pattern on it?"
I went through every room in our house looking for my kleenex box. Panic was setting in. Where had my kleenex box gone? I needed it. It belonged on the corner of my desk, next to the lamp, and behind my scrabble tiles.
I've heard of others that have their own quirky needs, superstitions, and odd requirements for writing. I didn't know how to feel about that. All I knew was that I needed my kleenex box or I'd never be able to write again.
I let out an audible sigh of relief when I found it. It was safe and sound in the living room. I picked it up with care and brought it back to its place.
There are three things on the corner of my writing desk - a lamp and two things that are very special to me. One is a gift from a dear friend that I cherish, and the other is an orange box of kleenex.