This is what my quaint little home office used to look like around here.
Aesthetically I liked it a lot but structurally that ladder desk had major ish. I bought it almost four years ago for– no joke– less than $50 from Staples or Office Max something. “Sort by Price, Low to High” fo life. I doubted it would survive The Great Move of 2011, but it lived on to see another trans-state move on top of that. It’s basically the Vin Diesel of cheap Staples desks. It could jump out of a flaming car off a cliff being chased by 10 U.S. Marshals and it would dust off its knees and be like AIN’T NO THANG. But even though it was still standing against all odds, it was wobbly and coming unhinged and becoming not safe for me to work at with Frogson napping in his wrap against me. And getting into my little workspace nook I’d have to suck in my stomach (DIFFICULT) and sort of inch my way to the chair without bumping the desk, because any little nudge made me cup my hand over Frogson’s head cause I was sure the desk was like HIDE YOUR OFFSPRING, I’M GONNA MAKE KNICK KNACKS RAIN FROM THE SKY.
SORRY FOR THE CAPS LOCK SO MUCH CAFFEINE.
So I took to Craigslist, like any good person does when their soul is jointly owned by the IRS, Sallie Mae, and the American Express corporation. And that is where I found this little gem, sitting at a furniture dealer not far away.
This was a homemade concoction wherein someone had dismembered an old oak desk and placed this mosaic on top. Yes, the thing is a hot mess but I was instantly in love. Sometimes I have strange reactions like that. It’s actually how Frogson’s real name came to be. It was never on the list of boy names I liked, it’s kind of random, it has no family or other symbolic meaning… I just read it in one of those baby name books and I was like… that’s it, don’t ask me why but that’s what he was meant to be named.
So I told the seller I wanted it and freaked out all week that someone would snatch it up before we were able to make it there over the weekend. Because surely a desk that cool would be coveted by all. Instead we showed up to this little furniture boutique and they were like, it’s been here forever, we can’t get rid of the thing. But it’s been a great conversation starter!
Conversation starter?! Was my taste way off on this? Was this like all those years where I had breakdowns at the Christmas tree farm that we needed to pick one of the freaky deformed trees from the bargain lot because nobody else would give it a home and IT WOULD BE SAD AND NEVER KNOW LOVE? Even Jeff took one look and was like THAT THING IS FUGLY. You don’t understand, Jeff does not have opinions when it comes to this stuff. I don’t even bother to show him things like this in advance, because he no curr and has no appreciation for the domestic refinery I bring to his life. He spent many years living quite contentedly at what is surely one of the nastiest frat houses the Eastern seaboard has to offer. So I was starting to panic and second guess myself.
Guess what, I like it. I DON’T CARE I LOVE IT I DON’T CARE.
I was in agreement with my mom who suggested I paint the crazy blue trim to match the walls, so I think that tamed it a little. I relocated the mirror thing from elsewhere in the house, and I went shopping in my parents’ basement for the green pot and faux palms (AKA from that thrift shop down the road). I think it looks cool. The patterns are supposed to clash, IT’S FUNKY OKAY? But I need you to comment on this post anonymously if you agree it’s heinous though. It’s the only way I’ll learn. Sorry again for the too much caps lock.