The last time I had a real desk was when in 2004. And when I say “desk” I’m using the word very loosely.
At the time I was living in a quirky old rental house with two good friends while finishing my last semesters of college. My bedroom had a low dresser which I used partly to store my jeans, pjs, and underwear, and partly as a space to pound out research papers at ungodly hours. I set up my bulky old desktop computer on top of it, and when I wanted to use it, I pulled out the top drawer just far enough to rest my keyboard on it. I kept a beat-up old chair in the corner when I wasn’t using it.
The setup was far from ideal but I did a lot of quality work there.
Kind of like right now.
Thirteen years later, I’m working on a much nicer laptop than I could’ve imagined then, but my “desk” setup is just as pitiful.
I’ve been using that stool off and on for about a decade. When I was working on my Master’s degree, I used David’s computer at his desk for most of my work. For nearly everything else, though, I work from the couch. Or the rocking chair. Or at the dining table. Mostly the couch though.
I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me to create my own little work space that wasn’t also the place I nursed babies, read stories to toddlers, watched movies with David, and ate more OREOs than should be allowed. That’s just the way it was, and the way it was was fine.
Until suddenly it wasn’t.
Recently I realized that I don’t have a space in my house that is purely mine. Our house isn’t big, and for the most part we like it that way. However, it means we don’t have rooms to spare. The girls share a room and the baby has a small room to himself. David and I share bedroom + bathroom, obviously. The living areas are for the entire family. David has colonized the garage with his own creative pursuits.
And I have this chaise part of our sectional, complete with frequent grumpy visitors and plenty of other people’s stuff.
Welcome to my real life, folks. Rumpled, unstaged, grainy, and glorious to behold.
It’s not enough.
It’s not meeting my needs.
That’s probably quite clear, based on the mess of planner + laptops + cords + papers + kid stuff.
Maybe I’m producing quality work (and I like to think that, for the most part, I am) but I wonder: could I do better work from a quiet space that’s just mine? Could I work more efficiently, be more organized if everyone knew not to mess with my desk?
After some discussion with David and plenty of online window shopping + Pinterest perusal, I’m going to find out.
This corner—which I currently adore and am a little sad to change—is going to become my office.
Putting in those corner bookshelves was such a great idea. They’re filled with books, toys, and pretty things we want to display. (Never mind that I haven’t styled the shelves since I took down my Christmas decor months ago.) That corner is one of the first things you see when you walk in the front door, and the bookshelves have helped the room feel homey and finished.
But it’s also one of the few spots in our home that isn’t really usable. There’s not really enough space behind the couch for the kiddos to play; they prefer to bring things out onto the rug. That square footage could be working much harder.
So I’m gonna make it work.
I’ve ordered a desk that should be arriving tomorrow. (Eek! So exciting!) I think I’ll hang some floating shelves over it to preserve some of the vertical storage + decor space. Hopefully I can spend some time shuffling furniture around and setting things up this weekend. It may be a little while before I’m satisfied with the results but no matter. I’m hardly a stranger to tweaking rooms for as long as it takes to make them just right.
Soon I’ll have a big girl desk in a tiny corner of my own. I can’t wait to see what a difference it will make for me. And I really can’t wait to share it with you once I get it all set up!