disorder – five stray minutes

(An attempt to describe an object.)

The handcrafted pine tray is larger than the ones purchased in the office supplies store. It is three inches deep, and easily takes the A3 sketch pads and folders piled in it, and flowing over its edges in ways that seemingly defy gravity.

A sad shaft of light reveals a thin film of dust on every edge of paper jutting out. Why would one keep an envelope, if not to protect whatever is inside? What is it, I wonder? And why did I keep it?

I have a red folder sitting right on top of a pink one. These are the only elements of colour standing out from the manilla and white. The colour scheme is scary. I shall have to apply some interior décor principles to that mess soon.

Yes, the entropic wardrobe is a closed system and subject to randomness and disorder. Chaos, even. It is a closed system because, despite disorder within, care is usually taken to ensure that the door closes.

Of course the jolly thing is too small. That is why there exists what like-minded friends have dubbed the “drobe”, loosely defined as a chair, or other piece of furniture, placed in a bedroom to bear the weight of any clothes that for any reason do not get moved either to the laundry basket or, when clean, back into the wardrobe itself.

Sometimes, confusion occurs with drobes, for the manager of the drobe cannot remember what direction the clothes on it are supposed to be travelling. This turmoil is responsible for many an item being needlessly washed twice. Rather that, than place already worn clothes back in the wardrobe.

As to the wardrobe itself, the chief cause of entropy arises when visitors are expected and the entire amorphous pile on the drobe has to be unceremoniously dumped inside the wardrobe, whose door is firmly shut.

All this to give the impression of order, you understand.