I love my desk.  It's probably the worst piece of furniture in the house.  But that's one of the reasons I love it.  This desk and I can battle things out together, and we can win.  

My stepfather knocked together some scrap wood as a temporary workshop table nearly 40 years ago.  Ever since then, it has been battered around, moved from one place to another, lost under piles of workshop junk, had stuff spilled all over it, generally mistreated.  It is, it has to be admitted, a pile of junk that should never have lasted this long but somehow that table had heart and staying power.  

Really, I think it was waiting for me all those years.  

I was never able to find a satisfactory desk.  Believe me, I tried:  I can recall 18 different desks that I have owned. (No, I am not kidding.)  I've had all sorts--from armoires to a rolltop.   No matter how much drawer space they had or how many clever cubbies they contained, not one of those desks was satisfactory.   After I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to give away my latest annoying desk, I was stuck desk-less.  Using the ratty old worktable was an act of desperation.....that became, bit by bit, a permanent, satisfactory,  and surprisingly perfect solution.  

It was, regrettably, dark brown.  I don't own anything brown.  Brown is the color of.....well, you know.  I like cheerful colors.  I used leftover paint and gave it a blue and green facelift.  It didn't matter what color I used as long as the brown was gone.  The desk looked happier somehow.

It was wobbly.  I am no carpenter, really not.  But the desk didn't mind where I jabbed extra screws in to try to fix it up; it was just grateful to be a stable table.  When computer cables and lamp cords and such got in the way, I cut holes in the desk top.  Since the desk was already disgraceful looking, it did not care; it appreciated the attention.  

When I thought about all that, I realized that this thing was taking on a life of its own.

It has no drawer space whatsoever but that's the most brilliant thing about it.  The desk and I are not confined by someone else's idea of storage.  I mess things about, re-arrange, re-organize when and how it suits me.  The desk only becomes more useful, and I become more cheeful.  We are a team, the desk and me.

I moved the desk around to various locations in my study until it settled happily in front of the window with a sigh of satisfaction.  I have a feeling that the desk and I will be sitting here for a long, long time together.

I hope the other furniture isn't jealous.

The desk begs your pardon for being untidy.  It wasn't expecting to have it's picture made, and it was a little messy but, hey, we've been busy this morning already and we have lots more work to do before our day is done.