Papers are like weeds.

4 Mar

At a newspaper, papers are like weeds. You turn your back for a moment and by the time you turn around, there’s more. They gather in stacks, in cabinets and on shelves, in rack organizers and dark corners. They taunt, as they grow—“throw me away, but I’ll be back…” You spend your time uprooting them from wherever they spring. Each day I throw away papers that somehow accumulated on my desk. Still there’s more. Every week, on Fridays, I put my gardening gloves on and I go at it. I mean really go at it. I’m vicious. I fling open drawers and the two overhead compartments above my desk, and I collect everything which has escaped folders and I dump it into the trash. I feel no remorse. If I didn’t do this, they’d overtake me. I’d get tangled in papers, unable to move—and unable to write.


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