Surreal Moment of the Day

Today I went to work.

(No, that was not the surreal moment. With my employment track record, though, it was a good guess...)

When working in Sleepy Eye, I set up camp in my father's office. He does business out of town every day but Friday, and his vast oak desk sits empty and forlorn. It's the perfect spot for, oh, I don't know, a writer who wants nothing more than quiet, privacy, and a working internet connection. My routine is always the same: I chatter with Shari, a paralegal who is the office's lone occupant most days; meander past conference room, billing office, and various closets; and settle into a well-cushioned rolling recliner scaled for someone larger than I. Opening a document of notes and fragments optimistically saved as "Chapter 20", I await inspiration or instant message, whichever comes first.

The desk is heavy and imposing, with a thin glass top that covers its entire surface. This is Pat's answer to a bulletin board, and it is nearly cluttered with all manner of memorabilia: a tennis ball autographed by my sister, a yellowing e-mail to his brothers beside a yellowed Hagar the Horrible cartoon, my seventh grade photo, a land development map, a round red alarm clock - broken - that was a gift from my brother. Today is my first day at the desk since last summer, and new postings have appeared in the intervening year. Glancing away from my laptop, I notice a Post-it note (intentionally yellow) that has been taped securely to the innermost edge of the glass. Amid jotted phrases, one full sentence is written in block letters and outlined in red pen. It's a strong, independent declaration, and I know that it's been placed so prominently to provide motivation and encouragement. As the familiarity of the phrasing strikes, I almost involuntarily begin trying to place the source of the quote. Something I've read? A cinematic voiceover, perhaps?

Then I realize, while incredulity descends, that the words seem so familiar because I wrote them.

Talk about surreal...