I kept the smaller desk

Two desks were left in the apartment after my roommate moved out: the big one under the window, and the narrow one I'd been using since September. Obvious upgrade, free, nobody would have said a word. I moved the big one in, worked at it for three days, and moved it back out. I want to be honest about why, because the flattering version arrived first — something about not needing much, about clean surfaces. The real reason is that on the big desk everything I own fits at once: the notebook, the water bottle, the pile of mail, the thing I'm avoiding. On the narrow one I have to choose. Two objects, maybe three. Whatever isn't on the desk is in a drawer and therefore out of my head. So it isn't discipline, it's a fence. And I need the fence, because without one I'll keep everything in view and call that staying on top of things. The narrow desk is back against the wall. The big one is in the hallway, and I should tell someone they can have it.