Only the Strong Survive in This Harsh Land
I am describing the wilderness that is my office desk.
Away to the south are stacks of books, folders and reports that reach to the heavens, the Paperwork Rockies. The tops, I’m sure (since the summit cannot be seen from my chair), are covered in snow, and fierce winds scour the surface. I have even heard rumors of the yeti--the abominable snowman--scavenging the mighty slopes. Two years ago, I lost a secretary when she attempted to conquer the alpine stacks but never returned.
To the north, spilling off my desk and onto my bookshelf is the venerable Greeting Card Forest. This is a land time has forgotten. Old greeting cards given on the occasion of birthdays, anniversaries, V-E Day and Jesus’ original birthday stand as silent sentries of an earlier era. Those who wander towards its deepest recesses will discover a place where the canopy is so thick light does not reach the desktop. Fell creatures surely make their homes there in the shadows.
To the west is grand Inbox Canyon, built over countless millennia. Deposits are laid down at regular intervals each day, and are then swept away once every month or so by a torrential downpour of false enthusiasm. The sunsets over this landmark are world-renowned.
Finally, at the eastern fringes of my desk are the gently rolling hills of Work in Progress. In some cases, near the bases of these vast grazing lands, the most recent progress took place at the same time Napoleon raced across Europe. Atop these hills roam the vast herds of Yellow Sticky Notes that the native peoples once hunted for food. Every part of the Sticky Note was used for some purpose, from clothing to shelter to making tools.
This is a harmonious land, practically unchanged for tens of thousands of years. It is a place where human beings are not masters, but simply one more species of animal that must struggle each day to survive.
It is the untamed wilderness. It is my desk.