It’s not even halfway finished, but I decided that very early this morning was the perfect time to officially move into my new office. I’m full of bedhead and wearing only the remnants of yesterday’s mascara. I haven’t even had coffee yet, but I don’t even care because I’m sitting at my desk in my room.
Up until now, for the almost two years I have been working from home (two years this next month!), I was basically in a constant state of timeout. I sat in a very uncomfortable chair, pulled up to a very l-shaped desk that faced the corner where two walls of my bedroom met. It was very isolating and kind of weird to have a job that is exactly three feet from where I sleep. It also does nothing in the way of motivation to actually get up and get clean every day. “Oh, you mean I can slither from my bed to my desk and then back to my bed again? It’s naps for everyone today!” Not that this ever happened, mind you. More than once. Or more than twice.
Facing the corner in a horribly lit room meant that any time someone came to talk to me, it resulted in something straight out of a horror movie.
“OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU SCARED THE EVERLOVING LIFE OUT OF ME WHERE DID YOU COME FROM ARE YOU A CIRCUS PERFORMER OR A MAGICIAN?!”
There was just no way to not be startled by the people in my life.
Also, it meant that my children spent way too much time in my bedroom.
Also, it meant that if I forgot to turn the tv off after listening to Live With Kelly and Michael I would have to listen to Dr. Phil’s voice.
Also, getting snacks and coffee top-ups were a burden. And snacks and coffee should never be a chore.
Also, it meant that sitting cross-legged on my couch with my tiny laptop in my lap seemed like a better work option than my iMac.
So, we finally decided after scraping enough off of the tops of many, many paychecks that we finally were going to bite the bullet and turn our room that served as a good dance studio/photo studio/stage/frat party into something that’s a little less eyesore-y when you walk through our front doors, and something a little more functional.
I love it so much already, even without the chairs and console and light fixture and side table and giant pouf—they are coming and they will be spectacular. And there are six windows in this room and absolutely nothing Blair Witchy going on here. No more corners for me anymore.
And I’m pretty sure my assistant approves.
NOTE: This post is NOT sponsored in any way, shape, or form. I paid for this entire room all on my very own (…well, with the assistance of a husband-and-wife joint bank account). I really, really love West Elm. You would know this if you saw my family room. And my kitchen. I’m predictable, if nothing else.