I’m thinking about what’s in your drawers.

I don’t like posting and I don’t like the schedule. Yet, here I am. That’s because my President called on me to serve, and I will serve my President.

The reasons behind my distaste for posts and schedules are myriad. For one, sometimes I just don’t feel like, or am incapable of, being clever. Most significant, however, is the concept of “busy.”

I get really busy at work from time to time. I’m sure that many of you are similarly situated (with the notable exception of Professor Four Twenty, of course). Sometimes I get so busy that I don’t have a chance to visit yinzes for a day or so or so. (As a matter of fact, as I type, I ought to be working instead of blogging.) So, anyway, I guess I feel that the schedule represents an obligation. Understand, this is not an obligation that I resent. Rather, it is the potential that I might end up neglecting this obligation that causes me angst (i.e., I’d feel bad about missing a post and leaving you all hanging, but dammit, I simply have to work sometimes and I don’t want to feel guilty about that either. Curse my tendencies towards self-flagellation.).

And, let me tell you, folks, the free-swinging non-contributor lifestyle was pretty sweet. I will miss it.

Yet, I serve.

But I didn’t come here to talk about the draft…

I came to talk about being busy, which is the point of this post.

Sometimes, I get special busy. So busy that when the day ends, I realize that I’m dying of thirst and I have to pee like a racehorse—neither sensation having been allowed to manifest itself over the furious hours that just flew by. So busy that, not only is blogging about lunch out of the question, but any opportunity to take leave of the office and acquire a midday meal is also sacked (so to speak). When such a situation arises, I can always turn to my emergency reserves that are stashed around my workspace.

(Ho! Cute co-worker just asked if I wanted to make a bet on tomorrow’s UM ND game. I said “Let’s make it lunch!” Oh, Dipso, you sly sly dog, you.)

Back to the emergency reserves. At first blush it’s pretty slim pickins. A closer look, however, reveals a caloric content that could match a month’s worth in your run-of-the-mill Darfurian village. In the enclosed shelf to my left here, I have a box of cereal from Battle Creek, Michigan. Kellogg’s Smart Start—Antioxidant. It keeps me cancer free. I also have the big bomb—a can of Campbell’s Chunky Vegetable Beef. I used to have two of those, but I ate one a couple weeks ago over ramen noodles, several packages of which can be found in the bottom drawer to my immediate right. That drawer is big and deep.

I will now perform an inventory: three packages ramen—two beef, one chicken. I need to restock. I don’t do those Styrofoam cup things, either. Those are for Sallies; one Star-Kist “Lunch To-Go” (Bonnaroo! Just doesn’t taste the same in the office -- I promise you that); three other cans of tuna (I didn’t know I liked tuna so much); a cylinder of Quaker quick oats (I still have to do that coffee/oatmeal thing, I know); two pouches of lipton instant chicken noodle; @ ¼ bag gummy orange slice candy, all smashed up; ½ bag sunflower seeds, in shell; a million little packets of condiments, the mode of which seems to be “soy sauce,” or upon closer inspection, “water, salt, caramel color, sugar, msg, and sodium benzoate sauce.” Hey, soy-free soy sauce! I also have a container of soy milk in the fridge. There are some turkey and cheese hot pockets in the freezer that have been there for as long as I can remember, and a couple Salisbury steak frozen dinners. I didn’t buy them, but I would have no qualms about pilfering those in a pinch. I think they may be left there by a co-worker who got fired. I believe he was spending too much time on the Internet. I also have that bottle of Cholula I stole from Baja Fresh, some green tea, a box of Alka Seltzer, and half a bottle of now-crystalized Pure Michigan Star Thistle Honey, a product of Michigan that promises to re-liquify under certain meteorological conditions.

I’ve been typing this post for 25 minutes. I could type it for another 25 minutes. I’m not proud…or tired.

But at this point, I’d like to know what y’all have in your little makeshift workspace pantries (which is just an “r” away from being panties). Be as descriptive as possible now, and tell us what’s in your drawers.

Altogether now, with feeling:

You can get anything you want…

Wfl?

Go Blue!