I still have not finished packing my office. Today, though, I tried to go through all the clutter on my desk. Here’s what I found so far:
1 half-used box of small index cards.
1 set of large index cards with old notes and ideas for short stories.
2 jumbo-size paper clips.
2 tape dispensers.
1 iKlear laptop cleaner.
3 bobby pins.
2 sets of Chinese hairpins.
2 hair bands.
1 butterfly pin.
2 half-used books of stamps.
My log book.
My note book.
1 pair of earplugs.
1 pair of reading glasses prescribed to me by a zealous optometrist back in 1998, and which I have never used nor needed.
1 nail file.
1 Wite Out.
1 map of Rabat, 1 of Casablanca, 1 of Morocco.
1 file folder labeled ‘Events’, 1 labeled ‘Fulbright.’
1 Authors’ Guild Bulletin.
1 greeting card that says, “You’re the best auntie in the world.” Aww.
4 pens, 2 highlighters.
A photo of my beloved grandmother, my mother, my younger brother, and me.
1 voucher for a yoga class.
My cell phone.
The Anchor Book of Arabic Fiction.
Season of Migration to the North by Tayib Salih.
The Fall 2006 issue of Virginia Quarterly Review.
1 yellow notepad, half-used. The last item says, “Call Keiko.”
A bibliography of works on Morocco.
A publicity postcard for my book.
A United Airlines frequent-flyer card.
A reminder to make a dentist appointment. The reminder dates from January 17, 2006.
The July-August issue of World Literature Today.
The latest issue of the New Yorker, with 4 phone numbers scribbled on the cover.
The neighbor’s house keys.
My overflowing box of rejection letters.
Fan letters: A two-page one from a seventeen-year-old; a ten-page one from an inmate on death row.
1 phone recharger.
4 old back-ups for my laptop.
1 Dust Blaster Pro.
1 file labeled ‘Interesting Articles/Stuff To read.’
A collection of misspellings of my name, which I cut out of envelopes and other correspondence.
Various drafts of various parts of my novel.
And I need to trim this list to: