In my condo, there used to be an unusual hallway, a transition space from the front door area into the main room. It was too narrow to be a room room, but it was to large to skip over entirely. It posed a bit of a problem.
I work from home, and when I arrived in my place, I had two options: set up in the main room or take the guest bedroom over as my office. I did the latter for awhile, but then the show’s need for storage (I’m speaking about Quilty, here) and my need for natural light made this impossible. There’s no window in the back bedroom and it could work for boxes of fabric and notions but it wouldn’t work for my brain.
Then, one day, inspiration hit. The hallway. The office. The hallway office.
Forgive some of the small piles of paper and so forth; I tend to do that, but I assure you the piles have short lives.
I think of my hallway office as my mission control, probably because it is. From the desktop, which I had placed high so that I would stand to work instead of sit (this happens less than I had imagined it would because: barstool), I make Quilty the show, edit the magazine, create the blog (!), the podcast (you’ll see), and write, write, write all sorts of things, including far too many emails.
There is no furniture I like better than a chair at a desk. A desk is a tool of the mind, a sign of civilization. Dogs don’t have desks. Gorillas don’t have desks. People have desks, and from our desks in palaces, bland office buildings, or reconfigured hallways, we produce.
*Note thinking cap on second center shelf. I actually wear it when I need to think hard about something. I also chew gum when I’m writing. Helps me focus.
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