You know, it’s been so long since I worked on a desk that had a depth greater than 50cm that I forgot what it was like to not feel I had to telescope the bones in my arms just to sit even close to upright. I forgot what it was like to not feel like carpel tunnel was hours away with wrists bent to such angles as the humble wrist should never reach – though given my hypermobility that one was less novel an issue. And I forgot how nice it is to just have space. So here is my desk.
Ok so it’s a dining table but, no, it’s a desk. Granted it is a dining table but times permitting, this is to be my home office desk until I can go with my step dad to look at partner’s desks in person, as he’s the family expert – and built enough of them – to know which are well made and which are just glorified chipboard. So that’s exciting. And in the meantime, I legitimately love this desk. It’s cosy, it’s got a varnished top so no paper-like texture, and most of all I can work without feeling cramped or stressed. Ok I am still stressed out of my skull but less stressed.
Today was a good day. I just hope this is the start of something better.
samshuttleworth.com 