The office

I'm told Herbert Marcuse used to fill his office with plastic hippos, but I can't remember why.

My desk has a blue glass head named Headley and a shoelast on it. Why? Why not?

If I had an office I'd fill it with plants, random things and pictures of the ocean. There would be papers and books stacked everywhere haphazardly, but I'd know where everything was because that's the way I am.

The calendar on the wall would be four months behind and there would be a frog on my computer to keep the bugs out. There would be a critical lack of available writing implements because I'm convinced they like to hide from me.

If everything was perfect there'd be ivy over the windows, or a view into a courtyard that's not used frequently. I'd keep a blanket stashed somewhere for when it gets cold. There'd be a french press for really kickass coffee and looseleaf teas. I'd have a goodly supply of motheaten lopi sweaters.

It would be the sort of place where people could find me slumped over my desk after I haven't been seen for a couple of days, because I'd absolutely refused to retire. Can't retire with a setup like that.