I am, for the moment, office-less.
For years, I have been working on a grotty old desk using hand-me-down bookshelves and tables to fill in the gaps. The table beside my desk was too tall and actually had a hole in its top. I covered it with a board, but still. My office furniture left quite a bit to be desired.
And so finally, last weekend, I took the trip to Ikea to buy new furniture, a whole suite of it. Woo-hoo! We hauled 23 boxes home in two cars, with the desk top tied to the hood of my CRV. And last night was the night designated to start putting stuff together.
But, as you can see, we didn't get very far.
That photo to the right shows the assembled base of the free-standing bookshelf. What you can't see is that we did actually get two shelves of it put together. (And, um, when I say "we" I mean that in the royal way because I sat in a chair and exhorted people to work harder. I'm not so good with putting things together because I get frustrated and quit following directions, or fail to read them in the first place.)
So, my office now has one half-finished shelf unit and a few random screws and tools in it. Besides that, there's a long way to go–a desk, a cabinet that hangs on the wall, and a rolling cart–all of which need to be assembled. And that is why I am sitting at my kitchen table as I write this post. The living room is full of the remaining Ikea boxes. And the family room, my other refuge besides my office, is full of the cast-off furniture. (Anybody need a grotty old desk? It's yours for the asking. But act fast, because Saturday morning it goes out on the curb with a "free" sign.)
I'm feeling very rootless and riled up by this, far more than I thought I would. After all, I'm the one who happily sails off to Nashville and LA, declaring that all I need is my laptop. But apparently I need my laptop and the security of knowing where all my stuff is at home. (Because check out the photo to the left–that's half of my office, piled in the hall. There's another pile across the way.)
And now I understand why I resisted making this change for so long. Because it is complicated and hard. I'm not complaining, because I'm thrilled about the new furniture and what it says about where I am–ready to step it up. I just hadn't anticipated how much upheaval there would be.
So, somebody make me feel better–have any of you gone through something similar? Tell me there is light at the end of the tunnel. (And by the way, I promise I will post photos when the new furniture gets assembled and everything is put away.)