… 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. (more…)