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This is my new writing desk.  I ordered this desk two months ago.  It finally arrived in a giant, heavy, cardboard box and needing assembly, for my new, empty until today, writing room.

As small as this seems in the grand scheme of all things, it’s huge for me.

For the last 9 years I’ve been writing on either the dining room table (taking my computer down and storing it during holidays when I needed the table) or in a spare room on a bedside table barely big enough for the computer and keyboard and where I used the bed behind me as my credenza (which I also had to pack up and put away when we had houseguests).

Now I have a desk.  A desk!  A real desk.  With 2 skinny drawers for pens and notes and old photos and plain M&Ms.  And my new desk is in a tiny basement closet-like room with a door that closes to work in.  To write in.  To think in.  To escape in.  To connect in.  To be in.

And, maybe just as importantly??, a place for our sweet and elderly Handsome to crawl under and keep my feet warm while I work.

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Do you have a room of your own, or a room you’re dreaming years for?

 

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