Cats, Cheese Bowls, and other workspace requirements

I strive for productivity in my work. There’s no better feeling than retiring to the sofa to watch one or six episodes of Gilmore Girls with a bowl of cheese knowing I’ve met deadlines. My challenge is first getting my rump in a chair and getting into the “writing zone,” while also keeping an eye on my naturally janky posture and and making sure there’s hot caffeine somewhere within reach. Also, I need a box of tissue because my sinus issues will probably definitely want to get all up in my areas at some point. Honestly, I like to have a pretty perfect situation in order to effectively write. Here’s the short list of what I need:

  • The aforementioned comfy, yet authoritative chair—my posture needs tough love. A chair should show me who’s boss while still cradling my tender bottom.
  • The previously mentioned hot caffeine, although I never finish a cup of coffee or tea. My overachieving self is constantly disappointed.
  • And the box of tissues. My nose is either runny, stuffy, or bleeding. Sometimes all three simultaneously. WTF?
  • My phone, because notifications don’t check themselves. Am I right? And who knows if an incoming email offer for some new-fangled post-menopausal nasal spray might pop up? I’m gonna need that shizz. And fast. Anything that promises post-menopausal relief—no matter how far-fetched—is my catnip.
  • Extra-brand peppermint chewing gum makes me think better and faster. See, I’m not chewing any now, and I’ve already been up to refill my cheese bowl once and checked my email thrice (no nasal spray offers so far).
  • Snacks. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned my current “bowl of cheese” situation. Allow me to expound. My husband Chris is sensitive to dairy, and I’m sensitive to eating large amounts of it. I wouldn’t pop open a pint of sour cream and grab a spoon, but I would (and do) go to town on reasonable amounts of grated Parmesan. I eat the salty splinters with my hands like a stoned raccoon. I’m mostly absolutely sure it makes me think better and faster.
  • A glass of water. I don’t love water, but I like seeing clear pee in the toilet and knowing I’m hydrating like a boss. Instead of sipping, I tend to chug the whole glass and get it over with. Every time Chris sees me chugging, he reminds me of that woman who chugged so much water at once that she DIED. It’s a real thing called hyponatremia—your kidneys can’t handle all that water at once. I NEVER chug water without thinking of that news story. If I’m found dead, flopped over my laptop, with my raccoon hand inside a cheese bowl, please call the authorities and tell them not to rule out h-y-p-o-n-a-t-r-e-m-i-a.
  • My iPad, in case I need to jot some ideas for Mittens storylines or get a head start on the NY Times crossword puzzle. Please don’t be impressed—I can’t do any past Wednesday. I figure the puzzle is not a waste of time because I’m a writer, and it’s words. Better. Faster.
  • A cat, in my view, is pure inspiration. My gorgeous, bitchy girls will not rest on my lap because I’m such an antsy sitter while I write. I’m good as long as I see Janet or Phoebe and occasionally walk over to kiss their little launches.

These items are the bare minimum I need in order to sit down and write. If I worked in a real office, I’d have to negotiate all of these into my employment agreement. But since I work at my dining room table, I don’t have to negotiate with anyone or anything except my jank-hole chair which is always trying to make me sit up straight to avoid hunchbacking in a bell tower some day. Who knows? Maybe I’d write better and faster in a bell tower. Maybe the tower is just what my sinuses need.

Will there be cats and cheese bowls in the tower? OK, I’m in.


Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *