I hate my computer armoire. The damn thing looks very similar to the one in the picture. There are two distinct differences between mine and the one in the picture. There are two long doors on mine and not four. The front of the doors doesn’t have that plantation shutter look.
When we purchased this monster it was with great fanfare and excitement. It was going to serve with great distinction as a highly functional piece of furniture. Unlike its predecessor it wouldn’t look like it had escaped from a cubicle. If company came over all you needed to do was simply shut the door and the office look was gone.
With a chalkboard, bulletin board and built in cubbies it would make it easy to stay organized. Alas I quickly learned that the best laid plans can go astray. Let’s start with the lack of leg room. I spend hours at the computer. It is where I work. It is the place that I need to be at to be most productive so that I can make the dough it takes to run a household. Not to mention the moments that I spend blogging.
But since the tower and printer are located down below I can’t stretch my legs out and am forced to keep them right in front of me. It is annoying and uncomfortable on an airplane, but at my own home it is infuriating. I can’t believe that I paid to be uncomfortable.
Next issue. When I am working I like to have room to spread out my files so that I can just reach over and grab whichever one I happen to need. This medieval torture device mocks my effort to do so. There isn’t room to spread out. It makes neat piles look like clutter. The shelf that the monitor sits upon doesn’t take kindly to sharing space. The little built in cubbies are unnaturally good at making whatever you place in them look out of place, as if you just threw it in there.
So let’s recap. The lovely piece of furniture I paid good money for sucks. On a side note I never have understood why they call it good money. As far as I know there isn’t any bad money, unless you have stolen it or picked it up off of a corpse. In my experience any money that pays my bills is good money, but I digress.
I suppose that you could say “Jack, didn’t you know these things about yourself. Didn’t you know how you like to work. Why did you buy it.”
If you want to know the answer I’d be happy to give it to you. I’d be glad to tell you that it was a big mistake, but only after I put my size 12 boot in your ass for asking. I hate this freaking thing. My legs ache and I am constantly twisting so that I can stretch. I hate the cluttered look, but I am not going to move all of my office files/materials in and out of a closet every day. It is a waste of time and a bigger production than necessary.
As I explained to The Shmata Queen part of the beauty of growing older is the ability to admit when you have made a mistake. I made a mistake with this thing. Done, over, not discussing this any longer. I am sure that there are numerous other mistakes that I have made that would be far more interesting to discuss than this.