On Saturday I picked up the flat pack desk I ordered and paid for six weeks ago. I didn’t even swear while I was assembling it. Or drink. Or maim myself. I mainlined James Altucher podcast episodes and three hours later I was done.
Here’s what I’ve been using:
Here’s my new desk, all assembled:
It looks like it’s always been there. It’s like when you try on clothes and they’re so comfortable you feel like you already own then. Which makes me a little resentful when I have to pay money to take home what my body thinks belongs to me anyway.
You’ll notice the reference books on my credenza are a perfect habitat for the Antipodean Library Octopus. He likes to oversee things. And by things, I mean me.
He says I tend to break sections of my dialogue apart with too much description. I’ll work on that. At my new swoopy desk.
I am very happy.