Summary

The web content is a whimsical narrative from the perspective of a therapist's office supplies, reflecting on their roles and interactions as they observe and support the therapist's work.

Abstract

The article titled "If Freud Could See My Desk" humorously personifies the stationery on a therapist's desk, depicting an imagined conversation among them as they anticipate the arrival of the therapist's client. The objects, including a ruler, a pen, a pen cap, cotton buds, and a lip liner, each have distinct personalities and opinions about their purpose and the chaotic environment they inhabit. They discuss their daily experiences, the challenges of being misplaced or damaged, and the insights they gain from overhearing therapy sessions. Despite the clutter, they acknowledge the value of their collective contribution to the therapist's ability to maintain a semblance of order and professionalism. The narrative concludes with the therapist's arrival and the anticipation of a session involving a "Nasty Divorce."

Opinions

The ruler is portrayed as authoritative and somewhat critical of the other objects, particularly the cotton buds, which it deems unnecessary.
The pen (Pilot) and its cap express frustration over being misplaced and mishandled, highlighting the therapist's carelessness.
The cotton buds, despite being seen as superfluous by the ruler, defend their usefulness and lament the loss of one of their own, Tony, to the therapist's pets.
The lip liner pencil appears to be playful and takes a light-hearted approach to the ruler's grumpiness.
The objects collectively recognize their importance in the therapist's work, despite the chaotic appearance of the desk, and appreciate the opportunity to learn from the therapy sessions.
There is a sense of camaraderie among the objects as they prepare for the day's session, particularly in the face of the therapist's disorganization.
The narrative suggests that even in a seemingly disordered environment, everything has a role to play in the greater scheme of the therapist's practice.

If Freud Could See My Desk

The imagined conversation of a therapist’s cluttered stationery

This is a bit of fun, written in response to a writing competition prompted by Liberty Forrest and Witchy on Hope*Healing*Humour

‘Come on, people. It’s 9am and she’ll be here any minute!’

Ruler is rapping on the desktop like a bossy sergeant major, while notebook looks on — somewhat ruffled.

‘Just a moment, I haven’t finished my spine exercises, and Pilot isn’t here. Pilot, where are you?’

Black Pilot ink pen rolls out from under a scrunched up, coffee stained tissue. He looks like someone in need of a drink.

‘I wish she wouldn’t leave those lying around, disgusting! Besides I’m so dry I doubt I can write a single word, this morning.’

‘Well that’s not surprising, asshole!’ snaps Ruler, ‘You went to sleep with your cap off again.’

‘Not exactly my fault,’ retorts Pilot, huskily, ‘She’s terrible at putting my cap back on, and I can’t see it anywhere.’

Pilot rolls around helplessly, looking for his best friend. A faint squeak of annoyance comes from the dusty rug on the floor.

‘I’m down here again, guys!’ Pilot Cap spits out a tiny ball of fluff.

‘That shithead of a kitten jumped up on the desk again last night, and I’ve not only been batted around the floor — I’ve been chewed! Chewed, I tell you!’

‘You think you have it bad?’ chorus a bunch of cotton buds, their tiny voices in perfect harmony.

‘The kitten got Tony, on Tuesday. Tossed him around for ten minutes before finally biting him in two. The dog made off with one end of him and She dumped his butt in the bin!’

‘Rest in Pieces, Tony,’ says Pilot Cap. ‘I sympathise.’

Ruler, inches his way round to glare at the bunch of cotton buds. He finds them superfluous and annoying.

‘I don’t know what you lot are doing on her desk, anyway. You’re hardly necessary to her work.’

A lip liner pencil shimmies over and plants a smudgy, pink kiss on Ruler’s face.

‘So grumpy today!’ she giggles.

‘Get off, me woman!’ snaps Ruler, attempting to wipe his edge along the old tissue. ‘You shouldn’t be here either!’

At this, a lone cotton bud pirouettes over to the ruler, and with a deft toss of her head, wipes away the pink stain.

‘Hah! Now you can see why we’re needed!’ sing the cotton buds, Barbershop style.

‘We’re all needed,’ says the lip liner.

‘She works in a chaotic mess, but somehow, we all play our part in helping to promote the appearance of someone who actually has her shit together.’

‘Besides, we get free entertainment every day. I love listening to the stuff people tell her. Honestly, some of it is fascinating.’

‘What’s more,’ agrees Notebook, ‘We actually learn stuff, about how to be happier and kinder with ourselves and each other.’

Everyone nods in agreement, and finds their approximate place on the untidy desk. Thankfully, Ruler seems less edgy.

‘It’s Thursday!’ whispers Pilot Pen excitedly. ‘That means we’ll get the next instalment of the Nasty Divorce. I do hope he’s moved out.’

‘Well, we’re just about to find out,’ says Ruler, ‘Shhh!’

There are the sound of footsteps entering the room. A chair is pulled out, then a crunch is heard, followed by…

‘Ouch! Dammit! What’s that pen cap doing on the floor?’

Here’s a shout out to another writer Ella de Jong. I really enjoyed reading this poem:

In prison, I can’t be funny

It will not be appreciated, I assume.

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