He Stole *My* Desk

Yeah, that’s right, my desk!

For the past year or so, I’ve been begging for a desk of my own. N has often complained that my paperwork was cluttering up His desk, I was losing papers because they didn’t have a home, and with school coming up this fall I am going to need a place to keep my books and do homework.

 

Apparently this does not count as "proper housekeeping" in His house.

I surfed craigslist consistently looking for cheap desks that met the minimum requirements, and finally cam across a desk in Fargo that was perfect. They even threw in the chair for free. Planets aligned and I happened to have another errand to run in Fargo, so I brought home a desk. 😀

(With His permission of course. Ye Gods, do you really think I’d go buy a desk without Him knowing? I like my air freely flowing, thank you.)

I loved this desk the moment I saw it. It’s honey pine, spacious and open, with cubbies and shelves. Has a built in filing drawer. Everything I hoped for. So He and His friend drag it inside, and He gets it put together, and He announces, “I think I want this desk.” Thinking He was joking, I laughingly told Him He couldn’t have it, it was mine!

He was serious. He was going to take the desk, my desk. I ran through a quick gamut of emotions: anger, petulance, jealously, resentment. Over a freaking desk. I was angry that He would just imperiously decide that it was His now. Petulant that He didn’t let me have it sinceI made all the arrangements for it to come home. Jealousy that He got the nicer, newer desk. Resentment that He can pull that veto card whenever He damn well decides and that’s the end of it.

Did I act on any of those feelings? I am proud to say I did not. I got real quiet as I accepted that the desk was no longer mine, I mentally berated myself for being possessive when nothing is mine. I had an internal discussion about expectations and what happens when a person places expectations where there should be none.

Then I got up and cleaned the desk that I inherited from Him, settled into it and accepted it gratefully. At least He was kind enough to realize we needed another desk and gave me His old one. He could have put it downstairs as punishment for my presumptions.

Funny how something as little and normal as a desk can rub the salt in the wound just a little more, no? One more stumble down the path, one more path roughed out in the wilderness of my brain. I feel stupid that I got tripped up by something out of Slavery 101: Nothing You Have Is Really Yours, but I am glad that this time around I jumped the hurdle instead of falling over it and dragging it down with me.

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