I have found that the bigger the desk, the more clutter on top of it. In the end, you’re left with the same little area within which to work. So, I cut my desk in half. To be truthful, my desk broke in half and I figured, after trying to repair it for six hours, that it was all for the best. The broken half, which is still a fine piece of wood—or fake wood, I suppose—is now outside by the road with a “FREE” sign on it. People have stopped and relieved me of lesser things.
My desk trauma occurred due to our recent move. The movers didn’t break a thing, but in an effort to figure out where to run my business in our new home, I did the damage myself. The night before moving day, I lost a little of my mind and started dragging my desk through our present house. We were moving, you see, to the place right next door and I thought I would get a head start. “What are you doing?” my husband asked, “Your desk won’t fit through the door like that; you have to take it apart.” He was right, of course, but I reacted, “Sure I can! I just have to collapse the legs,” and I proceeded to pound on them, forcing each leg to collapse, thereby breaking half of them.
With a downsized desk, after a long moving day with no further incidents, I thought my “office” might fit in the living room; that is, the shared living space for our family of four. But problems ensued. For starters, the big window caused an intolerable glare on my computer. I tried closing the luxurious curtains, but within two hours of working in a completely dark room, I wandered off and took a nap. In addition, there’s a Steinway piano in the living room. (Did I mention this house came partially furnished?) I love it, but not when I have a deadline to meet and my daughter is having a piano lesson. To top it off, we have a cantankerous cockatiel who squawks loudly during my conference calls.
Thanks to the suggestion of a friend from Jazzercise who stopped by for a drink (a drink of water being the jazzercise buddy that she is), I decided to move my office to the tiny “bonus room” off of the master bedroom. It’s about the size of a walk-in closet, but I am so happy here! The window is kindly above and behind my computer so I can let light in and look outside without any glare on my screen. I also have a door to shut when my daughter plays the Steinway.
About working at home, I used to say, “Just don’t hide me away in a boring room in the far corner of the house.” But now, having had my fill of noise and distraction, that’s exactly what I want. And about the broken half of my desk, looking out the window, I see it has been nabbed.