I was reading an article about one’s personalized elegance, and it made me wonder if I had any.

I looked around my computer area, where I spend most of my free time these days, and got worried. Other people’s worksites seem much more streamlined, sleek and business-like, than mine. Could it be that I had no innate elegance?

I took a closer look at my work area. Above my printer is a statue my son gave me for Christmas a few years ago, flanked by the two semi-formal portraits my children gave me around the same time.

The one on the right is my favorite. Much more natural.

Is it the hockey jersey from the USSR my son is wearing in what was supposed to be a formal portrait, that takes away from my elegance?

I don’t think so. I like that picture just as it is. Why would I want an unnatural pose, or a picture of him in clothing donned for a fifteen-minute-photo shoot and never worn again?

Hey, I love that Rudolph special!

Just to the right of that picture is my gargoyle. One of them. My daughter bought him for me at a Renaissance Fair. The only embarassing thing about him is all that dust. He’s so high up, I can’t see that when I’m sitting at my computer. The space ship is Hub’s; it’s dusty, too, but I don’t touch his stuff. And yes, that is a hot pink Donald Duck. Why, do you find that odd? I’ve had it for so long, it seems more normal than the white, pantsless Donald that’s banned in Denmark. I also own a bright orange Pluto, and he seems very ordinary to me, too.

One of Hub’s comic books fell down, I see. I’d straighten it up if I could reach up there.

There’s a shelf above that one but I can’t get a good angle without standing on a chair, and that’s risky business at my weight age.

Further to the right, on those shelves, you would see more comic books, more space ships, more statues, several speakers, a big static ball, a turntable (Hub likes to make cd’s of all his favorite old albums) and a large microscope.

I used to have a static ball, but when I cleaned out my old classroom, I gave it away to a sweet student. I gave away my lava lamp, too. And my disembodied hand with the flexible fingers.

I’d mention the rubber chicken that hung above my desk, but I don’t want you to think I’m strange. I was speaking of elegance, remember?

I’ve told you before about my clock obsession. Here is the only clock in the house that I never consult. (I have to get right up on it to read the hands; shhh, don’t tell anybody.) Hub bought it almost thirty years ago.

This room used to be Zappa’s room. He grew up and moved out, but he still gives me awesome Christmas presents. That bloodshot-eyeball lamp is from him, too.

All the clutter around my work area is evidence of my Ebay doings. I used to have a ‘joint’ Ebay account with several other people but now I have my own. I don’t recommend sharing an account.

Finally, does anybody want a kitten?

I changed the subject because it became clear to me that I am not elegant.

This doesn’t bother me as much as it ought to.

Having only to choose between ‘elegant’ and ‘funky,’ I chose ‘funky.’

Good thing, huh.