office envy

It's been nearly three months since my last post. Given the much-lamented absence of both my short- and long-term memories, I'm not going to attempt an update, chronological or otherwise. Suffice to say that trips and photos were taken, involving various combinations of bicycles, tents, pop-up campers, airplanes, cars, trains, international borders, coastlines, islands, great lakes, and a variety of beds, bunks and sofas. With any luck, photo evidence will make its way here or to Axel's blog.

In the meantime, I'm going to dwell on my missing office and offer that as the most compelling reason for not having written anything in the last ninety days.

Since Axel's birth, my office has migrated three times. It's been difficult for me to adjust, especially since the punk now has what used to be my office.

And he's semi-inhabiting Mychal's former office as well.


It wasn't supposed to be this way. We'd survived five years sharing a studio apartment which doubled as both of our home offices (mine was a board laid atop two filing cabinets in a closet, Mychal's was a door balanced on two sawhorses). We had put in the time, chosen the paint, examined the natural lighting and windows, considered the lay-out of the house. These rooms were the culmination of years of waiting and a week of cursing (who really likes to paint anyway?). And, for the single year that they functioned as offices, they were perfect.

My office now is in the eaves upstairs. My desk is still balanced on the filing cabinets, but because the space is so narrow, the drawers face inwards. Four overloaded bookshelves tower over the desk; it feels like a cave, not a good thing for someone who lives for sunlight.

Obviously, the solution is to get rid of the books.