It comes as no surprise to my circle of family and friends that I would break something necessary to the enjoyment of my Florida Panhandle winter vacation in a lovely beachfront condo. A lovely beachfront condo on stilts with a staircase of twenty steps leading to the front door and the living level. A lovely beachfront condo with a flight and a half of steps leading to the second floor bedrooms.
It happens every time we come home from an extended winter stay in Florida. We unload our Chevy Traverse, trudging in from the garage with bin after bin of kitchen and bath supplies that we used in the rental cottage, plus coats and luggage, plus golf clubs, plus computer, electronics and office equipment, plus Schnoodle Dog’s crate, his beds, his blankets, his toys, his wardrobe, his accessories, his dinnerware, his food, his meds, and his treats. Whew!
When Macho Guy and I relocate to Florida in the winter, the most difficult aspect of the move for me is to do without with my computer desk—and my HP Officejet All-in-One—for the duration of our stay in the Sunshine State. ::sniffle, sob::
I absolutely adore my golden oak computer desk. It is the anchor corner of my writer’s cave. It has shelves for books, nooks for electronic devices and for a wheeled computer case, slots for music CDs [Mozart, especially, for when I’m plotting], slide out under-desktop shelves for an external keyboard and track pad, drawers for files and office supplies, and a large flat surface on which to set an external monitor and spread notes out—and make a ginormous mess, prominently featuring several tall untidy stacks of papers, each representing a different work in progress. Nirvana. Sheer nirvana.