When I was younger and would visit my father at work I remember having to strategically maneuver my body around mounds of paper and filing cabinets just to sit down in his chair. And forget about trying to find the keyboard and the mouse to pull up solitaire. And it is still this way and always will be. And I like it this way, because this is the way I work. It is organized in a way only he understands which is how I do it. "Organized chaos" someone once described the mess I had on the floor.
and I cannot fight the fact that I am my father's daughter. We make everything our own, he bring in our shit and it just throws up every which way. You can tell who we are and probably a few things about us