Post title stolen, of course, from Virginia Woolf.
Over the summer, we moved (one of those cross-town moves that seems a little silly when you rent the truck to go nine blocks but is ultimately much better than carrying your couch through cross-walks). We moved into a house that was significantly larger than the one we’d been renting, and one of the really exciting things about the move was that there was finally room for both my husband and I (notorious book-hoarders both) to have our own nerd-caves. Since July, my books had been shelved at complete random (in the order they were picked up off the floor, really), and two weeks ago, I finally organized them.
After the fit of book-organizing, I rearranged the office itself, too, because I’d had the room since July and barely used it, and since, I’ve been in here, actually being productive, pretty much every day.
One of the major changes was that I pulled my desk away from the wall, turned it so my back wouldn’t face the door. Somehow, that helped an awful lot. (One of my students told me that’s a huge issue in Feng Shui, and hey, I use the space now, so there’s probably something to it.) It still feels very strange to have a piece of furniture that’s sort of in the middle of the room, but it’s functional and I wasn’t doing anything else with the middle of the room.
And so, the end result:
This cat won’t leave this chair now, though she had no interest in the room before I “fixed” it. Even when I am sitting in it, she sits across the headrest or she sits behind me.