… dear Otto, dear Otto… a hole in my de-esk, dear Otto, a hole.
Dear Otto. Dearest, darling Otto. He’s the one putting holes in my desk, by the way.
Okay, I probably need to back this up.
When I first started freelancing, I marveled at the wonder of being able to make a job out of late nights spent hunched over my laptop in the middle of my bed. This is GENIUS, I thought! Who needs an office?
Eventually, though, I moved operations down to a desk in our family room, lest I end up a chiropractor’s dream. And as time went on, I dreamed of having an actual office; a room where I could concentrate on work and close a door between the children and myself when necessary. Surely THAT would be perfect.
Then we moved to this house, and I got my office. And I shared it with Otto, and I liked that, because I am rather fond of that guy. But Otto is tidy and I am perpetually disorganized and eventually he moved out of our office in a snit.
Okay, there was no snit involved. He merely moved upstairs because he needed more room. And also because the state of my desk was making him cry, I suspect.
Now I have the WHOLE OFFICE to myself, and I celebrated having all this extra room by being twice as messy and not utilizing the space in any sort of meaningful way, PLUS I stopped cleaning my desk up regularly because Otto was no longer sitting across the room saying supportive things like, “No, really, can you find ANYTHING when you need it?”
In the meantime, Otto went to Ikea and bought himself a Swedish Fancy Dorm Room In A Box and proceeded to set up his office so that every inch of his new digs is utilized to the maximum efficiency possible, and his desk is clean and pristine and his bookshelves glisten and he knows where EVERYTHING is.
So his office—which is tucked away upstairs, where People never see it—looks all official and fancy. Whereas my office—which is right through the garage and therefore the way that People come into the house 90% of the time—looks like a storage room where junk mail and cardboard boxes go to die.
I would like to be better organized. I would. But I also don’t even have time to clean my desk, so when in the heck am I supposed to redo my office?
Otto started talking about getting me a new desk. A bigger one! L-shaped! So I would have
more space to cover with crap plenty of room to stay organized! I nodded and murmured approving yet vague words whenever he brought it up, and then I kind of forgot about it.
We talked about it before my birthday, this past summer.
We talked about it before Christmas.
We talk about it a lot. Usually when I’m digging through piles trying to find something that’s disappeared.
Then yesterday I was headed out to run some errands and before I left, Otto sent me a bunch of Craigslist links to desks for sale and asked if I thought any of them would work. I responded that one in particular looked okay to me, and he said he was going to go take a look. I said fine and went on my merry way.
When I came back home, I had a new desk. And a matching filing cabinet! It’s almost like one is supposed to actually organize their papers and put them away, or something.
The problem is, the new desk is set up here in my office. As is the old desk. And because I am me, once I saw this I kind of started freaking out.
“I don’t have time to go through everything on my desk and get it moved over right now!”
Otto assured me that it wasn’t a problem. I could wait, or he could help, and we would figure it out. It wasn’t going to be a big deal.
The old desk has drawers. The new desk does not. “No problem!” said Otto. “I’ll get you one of those little rolling organizer things and we’ll just park it underneath.”
The old desk has a hutch. The new desk does not. “No problem!” said Otto. “I’ll find you a little organizer thingie for the desk top.”
The old desk had a built-in spot for folders. Otto gave me a wire folder rack he had upstairs.
The old desk contains a tower for a computer I haven’t used in years and a scanner that died, and surely I can just get rid of those things, but moving over the printer/scanner that works to the new desk means taking it off the network and apparently that could be a problem except I’m not sure why. Oh, probably because then I can’t send stuff to the printer when I’m sitting on the couch with my laptop. DAMMIT.
The old desk has all of my wires and such already configured. Otto assures me he will have everything whipped into shape for me on the new one in no time at all. Just as soon as he buys a special saw to drill a hole in the new desk.
A special saw? I may have blacked out at that point.
Of course right now my office is crowded and horrible and the poor dog is all freaked out because we had to move her crate and I think she is not altogether unconvinced that the new desk is out to get her. And we need to rearrange the rest of the furniture once the desk transfer happens, but of course I have too much work to do right now to work on the desk and the thought of unloading all the bookshelves so that they can be moved around makes me want to weep.
I keep trying to explain to Otto that if I had known getting a new desk was going to involve so much WORK I might have passed, but then he looks at me with such pity for my feebleness that I feel like I have to act more excited about special saws and hanging folders.
Be sure to tune in next week, when either my office will be all revamped and lovely or we find out exactly HOW special that special saw is….