In need of a little exercise, and a break from doing the same thing over and over for 195 different files, I decided to clean out my "personal" drawer. Here I have been at my new job for two and a half months, and I've already collected an obscene amount of stuff. Lotions and lipsticks and food and gum and band-aids. Lordy, how many band-aids I collected. I was never a girl scout, but I grew up with the idea that one must always be prepared. That is why I can't leave the house without a bag of some sort, of any size, stuffed with: bobby pins (you never know when you might need those, MacGyver), hair bands, gum/mints, ibuprofin, Pepto-Bismol, lotion, a pen, lipstick/gloss, a mirror, plenty of spare change, and on some occasions: a nail file, hand sanitizer, kleenex, a band-aid, and of course tampons. A girl has GOT to be prepared, for herself and for any random girl she might meet in a restroom.

I feel comfortable here at work, fully prepared and relaxed. My desk is my home away from home, fully equipped and stocked for any occasion that may arise. I guess that's a good thing, that I've settled into this office and have made it my own with my graham crackers and V8 cans, my Tums and Virginia is for Lovers mug, my travel-sized perfume, salt shaker, deodorant and matches. You never know when these things may come in handy.

I guess I have this subconscious fear that one day I will be stuck, caught without some vital item necessary for my survival. But what, exactly, might this item be? I don't know, and that's the mystery and the stress of it. You never know when you might desperately need nail clippers. Or foot deodorizer. Or chicken bullion. You just don't know. But you bet I'll be ready.

I don't use many of these items in my drawer on a regular basis, if at all, but it comforts me to know that they're there, just in case. If I happen to need an extra umbrella, it's here. Lint roller? Gotcha covered. Peanut butter? You betcha. Matches? I'm not sure why, but I got 'em and I'll use 'em if need be.

"Better safe than sorry" is my mantra, and I live strictly by it in all aspects of my life. I hoard canned goods in my cupboards at home. My glovebox is fully stocked with some crackers, tampons, band-aids, napkins and Advil. And I promise you do not want to know what goes on in my head when I pack for a trip. I guess this personality trait of mine would be better described as anal, but I prefer to call myself simply prepared. I just hope I don't have to leave this job any time soon. I will need a moving company to help me get all of this crap out of here.