A three foot metal cart on casters holds all of the items that I cannot live without. I purchased the dissembled dark gray rods, trays and screws last month during my back-to-school trip to Ikea. There is a natural order to all that lies in the cart in descending importance from top to bottom. Importance meaning frequency of use. The top trays holds all of my pens and writing utensils, a square metal mesh canister of paperclips, chapstick, my To Do list, gum, keys, hand cream, Advil, scissors, an iPhone charger and a eucalyptus scented candle. All of the things that I am constantly scanning the room for because honestly, I am scattery. My thoughts feel scattered and my apartment is certainly scattered. I built the cart along with a desk chair, gigantic bookcase, skinny cabinet and two light fixtures with an overwhelming sense of purpose in being an Ikea ninja. As I built my excitement increased and given our TMI tech world I felt compelled to share a picture of my completed cart along with my oh-so-clever “Ikea Ninja” caption. After I finished I returned to my To Do list and saw it was just one small box to check on an interminable list of items to help me prepare for my first semester back to school in over 4 years. The cart’s original purpose was as a bathroom organizer—fortuitously it did not fit. And so it sat in my living room as I agonized over my scattered brain and scattered apartment and which undertaking to begin next. The empty cart was begging for utility. But I couldn’t find my phone and my hands were dry and I was scattered. A-Ha! It’s a lifeline cart! It will hold everything that I can never find, and it will scoot with me from room to room as I leap from task to task and give me some sense of order and placement. I harked back to my first required essay from my 9th grade English course based on Tim Obrien’s The Things They Carried. We were asked