GONE WITH THE DUST

We have an arrangement — everything in the apartment is her domain, but my computer desk is off limits.

I am anything but a neat freak and very casual about neatness or organizing. But I always can find whatever I’m looking for — except this morning. I was dismayed to discover “it” was gone, so I was forced to check with “Mrs. Clean,” I thought perhaps she violated our agreement.

I shouted so that she could hear me in the next room, “Honey, did you by any chance clean my desk? I wrote an e-mail address in the dust, and now the dust and the message are gone.”