were just talking about another time and another place where we saw Bo Derrick riding a horse naked. Well she wasn’t exactly naked but she was riding a horse, the naked part just made it more interesting. Hurry up Gloria Fullbright, you can buy Jim a souvenir at the next stop. And welcome aboard Kathy Kretz, you are looking fabulous as always.)
After the Skype meeting, I decided I needed a professional place to write. I decided the kitchen table was no longer adequate and I didn’t like the idea of people at Skype meetings looking around my kitchen. I was feeling professional and needed a professional place to write. We had a really nice area in our bedroom that would make the perfect little office. We had the perfect desk too, oak with claw feet and a huge space to put my books and papers and stuff. There was only one bad thing: it was REALLY heavy and it was in our basement. So one day after removing the contents and then the legs, I demanded that my husband carry the rest of it upstairs. He did what I asked as he is “all about” me writing. He has goals for me that I don’t think I will ever achieve.
Once the desk was moved I had all kinds of plans for painting and decorating the space. I would sit at the desk and plan the space. I would sit at the desk and fantasize about my desk being worth millions of dollars someday, sitting at the National Museum of Art and people standing in line to see the place where the masterpiece of the world was written. (When I dream, I dream big!) Finally I moved my laptop to the new office area but I couldn’t write. The pace wasn’t decorated yet and it just seemed so blah.
I left my laptop there but I missed it. I missed not being able to just sit down and take a Facebook break in the middle of doing my domestic goddess thing. I missed not being able to check my e-mail while I was making supper and I missed seeing it on the kitchen table. The table now seemed empty, like something was missing. I now had to walk an additional twenty steps to get to my laptop and the route took me past my bed which just made me want to take naps. Not that I take naps (much) but things just didn’t feel right. It called to me but I couldn’t write one word.
So for a whole week I waited until the kids were at school and my husband was at work and then I would bring my laptop back to the kitchen table where it belonged. Before everyone got home I would take it back in and place it on the desk. But one afternoon I forgot to move it back to the desk. I was busted! The kids didn’t say anything but my husband noticed. I knew he wouldn’t be pleased as I put him through a lot of work to move the desk so I could have a professional place to write. When my husband got home from work he pointed at my laptop like it was pond scum, shook his head and with a snarled look said, “What’s that doing there?”
So I came clean and my laptop has been back on the kitchen table ever since. I couldn’t write on the professional desk in the professional office. It was like that part in Coal Miners Daughter when Loretta Lynn was in the recording studio and she couldn’t sing. So the producer brought all of her kids in and made them sit on a couch. He then told her to sing to her babies and she sang her heart out. It’s kind of like that, I can’t write in a quiet professional place because my life is not that way. I do my best writing when the kids are screaming, the TV is blaring and supper is burning on the stove. As un-glamorous as it sounds, that my friend is the way it is and I wouldn’t change it if I could.
I can’t picture my kitchen table at a museum but that’s OK because then I wouldn’t have a place to put my laptop anyway. Now what to do with that boring office space?!