Dear Wigleaf,

I am, of course, sitting at my desk, a cheaply-made laminate desk bought for $42 on Craigslist. It has an attached hutch with conveniently designed cubbyholes, which makes it a shallow cave. The veneer lifts off if I accidentally place a piece of tape on it. The bookshelves in my study were also bought on Craigslist, from a man who was selling everything he owned to move to Buenos Aires and study tango. He was not a young man. He told me the shelves were made for him by his uncle when he was a boy of twelve. I love bookshelves most when they are only partially filled, that is, partially empty, when they have room to hold the future. I would like to live sparsely, but have not. I remember a photo of the young Steve Jobs sitting cross-legged on the bare wood floor of his living room, with no furniture at all, except for a lamp, also sitting on the floor. In that moment I envied Steve Jobs, but only for his empty house. It's time for bed, our cat is waiting for me. She watches me get ready for bed. She is taking off her skins, she thinks. Then, She is putting on her skins. She watches me untangle my ear buds. She plays with string, too.

Good night,

Sharon