Some of you may follow me on Facebook. If so, you might, maybe, probably have seen pictures of my desk.
Or, rather, my lack of desk.
See, what happened was…
I was gifted with the opportunity to take two afternoons a week off to write. This is a BIG DEAL. I have spent the last eight years (post childbirth) writing at strange times such as 3 am, while I held a baby I couldn’t put down. Or 11 pm, after the child has finally gone to bed, laundry is done, lunches are made. Or 4:45 am before I went to work (which, I wasn’t really writing. I was mostly sleeping sitting up while writing jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj because my hands were still on the keyboard).
Two afternoons a week to write, while AWAKE AND COHERENT, is amazing.
But my home office is, well. Let’s just say, you know that room where you shove everything when people come over and you’re trying to pretend you’re not a slob? Yeah. My home office is that room. Because, you know, the door can be closed and I can say “Oh, that’s my personal writing space. I don’t open that door to anyone.” Adds to the author mystique, right?
In truth, if someone opened the door to that room, it would look like an explosion went off. You might find everything from cat toys, dead plants I forgot to water, every romance novel I’ve ever read and pictures of Jamie Fraser—not to mention crayon drawings my child won’t let me throw away, book swag, bills, and a ceramic frog that is supposed to hold kitchen scrubbies but has been repurposed for a door stop. (You know, in case I ever open the door. Which I don’t.)
Since I am now going to actually use my home office for writerly things on a regular basis (I typically write on my laptop because I can’t find my desktop), I decided it was time to get rid of the desk I’ve hated for a decade, buy myself one I liked, and clean up the space.
By the way, my old desk was glass and chrome, and had no drawers. What kind of a desk has no drawers? Where do you hide all your junk when you’re pretending to be organized?
So I shopped online for awhile, and then discovered an online office supply store was having a summer half-price office furniture sale. Awesome, right? So I buy it online and have it shipped.
Mr. A: So, did you buy that desk unseen?
Mr. A: How big is it?
Mr. A: What kind of wood it is?
Me: Dunno. But it has drawers.
Mr. A: Huh.
It arrived, and the box was ginormous. I mean, really, really GINORMOUS. Mr. A wasn’t home, so I heaved, pushed and sweated that thing into my office.
And the rest is on Facebook…
August 24, morning:
Questions that frighten Mr. A:
Do we have a crow bar?
If I were a razor blade, where would I be?
Do we have wood glue?
(No, I didn’t get my new desk put together last night. It proved a bit more complicated than I expected…)
August 24, evening:
Yay! Remember the desk that arrived damaged? Well, 7-10 days later, Biscuit, Scatter-Cat and I are getting ready to put my new desk together! Maybe my office will finally be usable!!!
10 minutes later, after a bubble wrap explosion…
Sigh. My desk and office still look like this. Why? Because after three deliveries I finally have four unbroken legs on my new desk, but now the screw holes don’t line up.
THE SCREW HOLES DON’T LINE UP.
Mr. Alexander says he’s going to save me from angst tonight and put it together for me. #myhero
Now, as I write this, it is Friday night. I’m at a coffee shop with a writer friend (Darcy Woods, who is awesome!), and when I finish, we’re going out for sushi. When THAT is finished, I’m going to go home and put together the hutch of my desk.
Wish me luck, yeah? And come find me on Facebook on Saturday morning to see if I actually got it together!