I just bought a new desk. It’s this modern – or, contemporary – piece. A desk. It’s asymmetrical, you know… the color blocking, on the leather, I mean. The top of it, where I write is divided into two. The left side is white and black is on the right. The white side is much smaller than the black..
So I try to write on the black side. You know, it won’t get as dirty with my smudges, being a leftie and all. But the white, it’s so beautiful, it’s not stark white, but it’s a warm white, if you know what I mean. I keep it pretty clean. I polish it every day. It’s the nicest piece of furniture I’ve ever owned. It was such a stark comparison this beautiful, polished, dignified desk floating in a room full of stained rugs, tattered ottomans, chipped coffee table. So I cleaned. Vacuumed, mopped, tsk, even steamed, everywhere . The living room, the kitchen, my boudoir, bathroom. All of it.
Before I knew it I was done, wiping down that grimy bathroom mirror, and I saw myself. I mean crystal clear. And I looked like I just made love with the hero of my life. Hot cheeks, hazy eyes, sweaty brow, and the best, panting.
So E__, that’s what I’ve been up to.