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I was noticing that as I sat in the den of my new apartment, typing on my computer, looking at the dark beyond the window blind, I kept thinking that there was a desk behind me.  I was factoring it into my semi-conscious reasoning, thinking, "Better move that mug.  Turn around and put it on the desk."

I finally figured it out.  My first real office, in my long-past life as a data center manager, I had a table with a computer against a window with a Venetian blind.  And my real desk was behind me, facing into the room.  I'm sensing furniture-ghosts.