Ever since ‘temporarily’ losing our home office space about 18 months ago, our master bedroom has become our company headquarters, a walk-in filing cabinet for paperwork and ongoing projects, personal and professional. It is not a sanctuary, it is a depository.
From where I sit at ‘my’ current desk (the right side of a king-size bed), laptop on my lap, today my mind feels as cluttered as the space around me.
My ‘filing cabinet’ (night stand) is two drawers full of notebooks, journals, clippings and various office supplies, its entire surface covered with multiple to-do lists, Christmas cards to file away, bills to pay, and a beautiful picture of Jordan and Jamie taken at my sister’s wedding six years ago.
Upon the lamp shade hangs my most-treasured necklace – a gold chain strung with the emerald ring Jim proposed to me with (wanting to shop for our real ring together, this one was referred to as the ‘stunt ring’), and two birthstone baby charms.
Our ‘bookshelf’ is the length of the windowsill, stacked with an odd collection of fiction, non-fiction and reference books. Below the window sits two recently emptied project totes (recycling Christmas cards for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital and clipping Box Tops for Education for the PTO).
A paper shredder (oh, the temptation) is tucked next to my long dresser. My three writing muses sit atop the cable box – a stuffed frog named Karma, an iguana named Izzy and Cady the caterpillar.
Our wedding album and engagement picture are displayed on a small table flanking the dresser to the left, the right-side table showcases a recently completed book I co-wrote and edited regarding real estate investing.
My husband’s tall dresser is perfect for storing packages on their way to the post office underneath (current count: six).
The bottom three drawers hold more office supplies, ink, toner and reams and reams of paper. My briefcase rests against the dresser’s curved leg, near the door and ready to go at any time.
And finally, we reach the “mother ship,” a large folding table containing my husband’s computer, dual monitors, files and paperwork. My daughter’s artwork and cards from my son dot the wall over Jim’s desk area. His black office chair is the favorite resting place for our youngest cat.
Jim’s nightstand houses the all-in-one printer/fax/copier and the cell phone chargers, with two drawers containing every electronic cable and piece of digital camera accessories known to modern man.
Yesterday Jim and I discussed the initial details of the new office layout, from the fluid, curved desktops to the built-in window seat which will overlook our deck and backyard. Set just off the kitchen on the first floor, we know a closed door will offer just enough privacy to be productive, yet be close enough to the kids to referee any mayhem.
For the first time in 18 months, today our makeshift corporate headquarters bothered me. It blocked me in. Maybe because the end is in sight, and I’m anxious to move out and move forward, today I could not tune it out and simply accept “It is what it is.”
And then, oddly enough, while cleaning out some old files, I came across a quote I kept from Donald Rumsfeld: “Amidst all the clutter, beyond all the obstacles, aside from all the static, are the goals set. Put your head down, do the best job possible, let the flak pass, and work towards those goals.”
Laura, I, too, have many memories of my adult children all around me to this day. Many of them are sitting next to the precious pictures, crafts, storie, etc., of our grandchildren. On one shelf,I have a handprint, glued and covered with blue stone, put together by one of our daughters when she was in the first grade. On another table sits a lovely letter that I framed, composed by my eldest daughter that she wrote to me when she was in the third grade. We also have many of their craft projects that have found their way into the corners of our home. I wouldn't have it any other way. I love the memories that those special keepsakes bring to us. Laura, keep up your wonderful, and insightful writings.
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