So, my work space, I suppose, is the little collection of things I carry around with me at work. Every once in a while I'll try to fit them in pockets. But this gets a little ridiculous, and (honestly) depending on the pants I'm wearing can cause a bit of drag, if you know what I mean. So, it's either a bag (lavender or mustard yellow) or a funny clipboard, in which I often hope to find: pens (whutup Pentel!), measuring tape, a reflex hammer, HIPAA-compliant papers, a tiny book made by one of the other residents that contains every phone number any of us will ever need as well as all my passwords written in the cover, and a much larger handbook. Sometimes I carry a PDA from 2006 that gets ogled like an eight-track ("Whoa, I haven't seen one of these in years.") I also always have my cell phone (for lonely or too-ridiculous-not-to-share moments), a pager, and my stethoscope, which has a really lovely charm tied to it, so I can spot it from afar.
Then, it seems, that my "workspace" is an ever-evolving, ever-mobile, occasionally-cumbersome situation that is a little jealous of (your?) neat office supplies and cute shoes.