My leather bound book catalog languishes here, neglected these last many days. Other activities beckoned and I followed. But it sits here on the desk taunting me. Expressing the desire to have been mailed to a more prosperous household where an order might actually have been filled out and mailed away. But NO, it had to land on these cash flow restricted shores.
Alas poor Easton Press, I knew him well. I’ll bet no other catalog has been fawned over and dog eared more than this one. I only throw out the old one when the new one comes in the mail. I am too much of a neat freak to keep a pile of them around. Sigh…. One day though I will surprise us both and order a book, you wait and see.
It’s so quiet in here. I have closed the door and it makes me aware of how much noise my house must be making outside this closet door. Computers humming, refrigerator making ice maker noises, the central heating going on and off, the little chiming clock on the shelf that chimes the quarter hours.
In here the loudest noise is the squiggly scratch of my fountain pen, followed by the swish of my sleeve as it slides across the paper following the pen. It’s a comforting sound, homely and uncomplicated. Thank God the whole world hasn’t gone electronic. Although soon enough I will be clicking away at the keyboard so as to send these musings out upon the cyber sea. Like a message in a virtual bottle.
“ Greetings from the little desk in the cupboard. I hope this finds you
well. May all our thoughts find their way to homeland shores soon.
And all our loved ones too.”