Office Space

When hubby quit his job and started a consulting firm two and a half years ago, he started on the dining room table. It was practical, he wasn't sure where and when he wanted to rent office space. It was fine until such time as he had enough business to merit piles of paperwork, and the dining table ended up looking like this.



I loathe clutter, so I would try to not look at it. But every six months or so, I would freak out and say why does the @#*&%*&@#!$!## house have to look like something off Clean Sweep?

We have a spare bedroom that I wanted to make into an office. It tends to be the place where everything goes that I don't want to deal with right now, so there have been times that I had to wade through junk on the floor to get to the window to open the shades.

Meanwhile, our daughter moved into an apartment last fall, and her room was largely empty, or, as she put it when she came home one weekend, sad.

Hubby and I both wanted an office in the spare room, but we disagreed on a fundamental item - the desk. I wanted a nice wood computer desk, maybe a dining room table sized desk facing it, and a bookcase. He didn't like the stuff I liked and he thought it was cheapo. He wanted something more industrial. I was picturing something like a metal desk with green sides, and I didn't want the home office to have that look.

My non-profit just moved into our new shelter and didn't take everything from the old one, so we had a big sale a few weeks ago. One of the sale items was a desk from our Office Manager's office. I liked it because it was nice wood and he liked it because it was sturdy. Okay, the thing is six feet long and weighs a ton.

We brought it home. The next day, hubby was out for around three hours running errands. When he came home, he had an office. I had cleared out all the junk, reformed the entire east wing of the house. He was shocked. He had underestimated how much I loathed the clutter, and underappreciated that I only blew up every six months or so. He said it was like a spring unloaded.





And Jessica's room is no longer sad.





And best of all, we have a dining room table. Just in time for Christmas!



So Peter Walsh will not be visiting me anytime soon. Well,unless he looks at the garage . . . .