caffeine, furniture, joy

First things first: in spite of my dismal prediction, I did survive all day yesterday without a drop of any form of caffeine. After writing that I surely could never do such a thing, I became very miffed with myself for unnecessarily creating a situation from which I could not emerge alive without the aid of artificial stimulants, and decided to give myself a lesson in Not Being Stupid.

I also thought, hey – maybe if I let myself suffer the full, un-medicated consequences of my rather foolhardy behavior, I’ll finally decide it’s just not a worthwhile habit to keep up.

Smart, huh? Only took me nearly 21 years to figure it out. Einstein would be so impressed.

I’ll be coffee-shopping tomorrow, though (by which I mean, working at a coffee shop – not shopping for coffee beans), so I probably won’t escape un-caffeinated. Some things just aren’t worth trying to resist.

Funny the things a person will come up with to dream about. I have big, impossible dreams coming out of my ears, but the thing that's really been gently tugging at my heartstrings lately is. . .

. . .a desk.

Yep, a desk, to sit at and write, to put books and maybe a picture frame on, and to keep things in the drawers.

I like to think that I'm not fussy, but I guess I kind of am. It has to be a simple desk (not a roll-top), but not super plain, and definitely not ugly. Inexpensive, and not too big (but not super extremely small, either) Maybe a slightly beat-up one, with some ornament and character to it, that I could refinish or paint, and make my own.

And it absolutely must set under, or at least very near to, a window - preferably one with a decent view. A stunning view would be even better, but you can't have everything.

Realistically, would I use a desk enough to make it worthwhile? I thrive on variety, so chances are in favor of my using it a lot at first, during its brief stint as a novelty, then abandoning it for large chunks of time while I root around for new crannies to sit in.

But right now, it sounds perfectly lovely, and I want one. It would be a fun project, anyway.

In fact, the place where my dresser is would make a nearly perfect writing spot: cheery yellow walls and a south-facing window, plus it's in my bedroom, so it wouldn't invade anyone else's space. Maybe I should throw out most of my clothes, junk the dresser, and buy a desk to put there instead.

I was at a thrift store this afternoon, and found this wonderfully amazing solid oak dining table – with six chairs, even – for (drum roll, please) only $150. It is, admittedly, in need of a certain amount of TLC. But it’s so beautiful, and I’d love to learn to refinish furniture – I am so tempted to buy it, I’m almost positive I’ll have to choose between doing it, and hating myself forever for not doing it.

And what, I suppose you’re wondering now, would I ever do with a huge dining room table and six chairs? For now . . . I haven’t got the foggiest idea.

But that’s not the point, now, is it?