There is no place more comfortable for me to work than my desk, with its perfect Aeron chair and double-wide computer screens and Bose ipod speakers and every little thing trained to be within arm’s reach. It’s high production.
But it’s also full of little reminders… what’s up next on ebay… time to put a capful of bleach in the sump pump… ding I’ve got mail… hey, look at that deer out my window… maybe I should pay bills…
Time to retreat to my cave.
Notebooks, netbook, iPhone go into a dorky knitting caddy (color pens where the needles go; Post-Its, index cards, glue, etc. already in its pockets) and off I go to the ground floor. That seems to be where my unconscious lives, where I can go to get some “real thinking” done.
I always think it’s going to be comfy all curled up on the little couch but my old body doesn’t do curled up well anymore — my hips and shoulders seize up up and my neck muscles ache. And yet… when my mind is stuck, there it is suddenly released. Not to say I’m flooded with brilliant ideas, but one good thought is better than none.
This morning I was hunkered down in my creeky fortress — fully intending to get to the 10 AM yoga class — but my mind just kept spinning out sentences. I stayed with the flow till nearly noon.
Now I need an ibuprofen and a massage, but hey I got some writing done!