Fair warning: This post is complete and utter office pr0n. If you’re not into that kind of thing, you’re excused until next post. If you are, though, hoo-boy are you in for a treat.
A little back story first.
I’ve always wanted one of those enormous wooden teacher’s desks, the kind that you see in old movies and that my mother had in her first classroom. There’s something reassuring about them, as if their sheer mass creates its own gravity. I’ve looked at them over the years, especially after I started writing seriously, but I either didn’t have the space or the hundreds of dollars Craigslisters wanted for them.
And then last week, I detoured down the furniture aisle at the thrift store, and lo and behold….
THERE WAS MY DESK.
FOR $20 CANADIAN. THAT’S LIKE TWO BUCKS IN REAL MONEY.
I sent Lino a picture, and to my surprise, he told me to buy it. There was a flurry of increasingly-excited texts in which I argued that we didn’t have space, we’d have to rent a truck, and also I already have two desks.
Then he said he’d get rid of his own giant desk to make room for it.
Who was I to turn down such a generous gesture? It would be rude to refuse.
So I paid for it, came back the next day with a truck, and Lino and a friend moved the old desk out and the new desk in. I spent the rest of the evening tenderly cleaning every square inch, and I may or may not have laid down on it trying to give it a hug goodnight.
Gentlefolk, bask in the glory of Dream Desk, the third and greatest of my furniture children, the desk to rule them all.