Office Hope

A reasonable human being surely ought to burn down his or her house every five years or so, when the proliferation of paper becomes so suffocating that, cleaning one's office, a few sheets go into the waste basket while the rest join dozens of piles mentally labelled 'To File' or 'Uncertain Whether To Save or Throw Out'. Writing this, a thought comes like a plant growing through cement: some people may have file draws that actually function and still have room in them, and I feel like a sinner in hell, looking up, feeling for the first time, hope.