I have this thing called “no patience.” It’s really annoying. I try and try and sometimes I’m “fake” patient, which means I go into another room while biting my fist while no one is looking and then come back into a room with a smile on my face like “oh, were we waiting to do something?”
But deep inside, I’m screaming because waiting? CAN SUCK IT.
I have been very busy doing designs lately, which is really good except that it’s mixed in with everything I’m trying to get done which I pretty much fail at as it is. I’m figuring out that I can not do work on my couch any longer. I must sit at a desk or the table.
We have a great desk in the office, but my kids like to sit there and color and play games on the computer, which is okay with me because then THEY ARE QUIET and quiet is gooooooooooooooooood. We do not disturb the quiet.
I can sit at the kitchen table and I do, but it’s so uncomfortable. It just is, trust me.
So, yesterday morning I remembered that we have a really cool desk in our basement. I’ve been hesitant to bring it up because I wasn’t sure where I was going to put it, but yesterday I finally decided that I would have to stuff it into our living room for the sake of getting some work done efficiently.
I went downstairs and uncovered the desk, it was covered with books and crap and surrounded by chairs and suitcases and other very heavy and annoying things. I finally made it to the desk and lifted it and all I thought was “wow, this is one heavy desk.”
But I persevered. I carried the desk to the front of the stairs where I got the leg of the desk caught on the glider that Brian sits on while playing video games. I should have set the 500 pound desk down on the ground and moved the glider, instead I lifted it higher up to try to set it free from the glider’s grip (think she-ra meets somebody really, really dumb) and pulled the desk which caused the glider to fall, directly onto my ankle.
But I continued. I was on a mission. I MUST SET UP A PROPER WORK STATION FOR ME AND I MUST DO IT RIGHT NOW. (NOT IN SIX HOURS WHEN BRIAN IS HOME)
When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I sized up the size of the desk with the width of the stairs and decided that Yes! It will fit.
I climbed the stairs, turned the desk on it’s side and pulled it up, one step at a time, scraping the backside of the beautiful desk against the wooden stairs. (I swear, I’m not an idiot, I’m just an idiot sometimes.) After a few minutes and sweat, MY GOD THE SWEAT, I made it to the top of the stairs where I couldn’t get it through the door.
Between the door, the door frame, the stair case rail and the massive desk itself, I could not get it through. I tried endlessly, I even left the desk at the top of the stairs, praying it wouldn’t fall, to get a drill to remove a leg. I instructed the kids to not move for fear their movement would send the desk cascading down the stairs.
I made it back with the drill but there were SOMANYSCREWS. And angles and no way could I do this. Especially while on stairs.
I tried for another ten minutes but it seemed the more I tried, the more stuck I got on the stairs. And the more I tried, the more holes and scrapes I was putting into the drywall.
And then it happened. It got stuck. And I was at the bottom of the desk looking up and had to climb through the legs to get back upstairs.
Where I promptly shut the door behind me, wiped the sweat from my brow and sat back down at my kitchen table.
And pretended that this wasn’t laying, stuck, on my stairs.
Where it sits, still, 24 hours later.
Getting work done is overrated. I’m going to the park.
Oh and when Brian got home late last night, I was all like, so I was going to move the desk upstairs and he was all “oh really, where to?“ and I was all “into the living room, see? I cleared out a space.“ To which he replied “nice!“ and then I opened the door to the basement and was all “hey, look down here!”
And then he looked at the desk and looked back at me and didn’t seem surprised at all.