Third entry for today - this one is actually my writing group assignment.

I’ve been in this office for almost a month now. The walls are the same shade of soothing pink as my childhood bedroom, and about as well painted, the painters the landlady used being apparently about as skilled as a panicked expectant father a week before the due date. Unlike my childhood walls, though, these have a matte and chalky finish, rather than the easy care high-gloss selected by my mom for the nursery. The paint isn’t so bad that it rubs off on your clothes, unlike many walls I have met, but it does acquire marks and damage very, very easily.

My desk faces a clock, hung at a strange point on the opposite wall, since I just stuck the clock up there on an already existing nail when I moved into the space. Someday I’ll move it. It ticks loudly, a sound I chose to find comforting, because if it was not comforting, it would drive me mad. There are two blue chairs opposite my desk, pushed up against the wall under the clock, but they are not as pretty as the phrase “two blue chairs” would imply. They’re office chairs, with black plastic legs and seats and backs made from some kind of foam covered in a blue fabric that must have been extruded rather than woven.

The desk itself is really two desks pushed together to make an L, carefully positioned to conceal scratches and dents, the desk with the pretty front facing the door and the uglier desk facing off to the side where it will be seen less often. They’re made of a black material that has been patterned with a texture to see like wood, but no wood is black and shiny and of such an exaggerated texture. Their surfaces are covered with an assortment of folders, papers and toys as well as the usual collection of pens, stapler, phone, and note pads. The folders are recycled, bearing Peace Corps and United Nations logos. The toys are mine. I worried first about bringing them in – I am already young to be a country director and I don’t want people thinking I’m a child with no authority. My office needed some cheer, though, so I brought them in and I hide them in a drawer if I am expecting an important visitor.

Also, of course, on the desk is my computer. It’s a Hewlett-Packard laptop that still technically belongs to my office in Tashkent. Not the fastest computer you’ll find, but it has plenty of memory. It is connected to my current pride and joy, a laser printer so new and up to date that it talks to me. “Printing started.” “Printing completed.” “Paper jam!”

The walls in my office were naked except the clock for a couple of weeks but they are growing less bare with time. In addition to the clock, there is an unappealing grey-scale painting of a seascape, two calendars, two maps, and a bulletin board I made myself out of cardboard, linen, and many staples. (It does not look as homemade as it sounds.) When I find something better to replace it, I will remove the painting. For now, it looks nicer than a bare hook.

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USAID is one of many donors for the project I work for. The views expressed herein are the author’s own views and do not necessarily reflect those of the author’s employer or especially those of the United States Agency for International Development or the United States Government. And I mean it. I probably give the US government heart attacks.