I like to think that when I leave the office the poor sod after me will flip through my papers and find Pratchett library call numbers and Modest Mouse track listings scribbled in the margins.
(Alright. The Shins, and in pink pen behind an accounts statement. This is an odd kind of retribution for spending a long time painstakingly typing numbers into an Excel spreadsheet only to have them - just when I thought I had got the hang of them - disappear on me. Isn't that just like a number?)