I live in sartorial elegance. My desk is a folding table left over from some camping trips; the chair is a repurposed dining room chair with an extra cushion added. But the view is of the wooded area of my lot, and I hear the little waterfall and the birds every morning. Actually, it can be a struggle this time of year to work. There is too much to draw me outside. I don’t have that issue during the winter when snow shoveling is the only thing to draw me out.
I didn’t always have it this good. Once upon a time, I worked for the Gov, had an office with a GSA-approved desk for my rank ( yep, that’s a real thing), and trotted off to committee meetings several times a day. I’d also listen to parrot-like recitations from government functionaries, more important and much more taken with themselves than I, natter on about the “Mission.”
This fall, when renovation is complete on my tiny upstairs office, I’ll relocate to my corner desk with a small window overlooking the pond. Books on carving, ships, and history will surround me. Outside the window will be a suet feeder only used by the audacious woodpeckers who don’t mind feeding above the common flocks at the first-floor feeders.
Occasionally, I’ll reflect on my colleagues still locked in their rounds of committee meetings, GSA-approved offices, and lectures on the “mission.”Then I’ll sit back and reflect on the sartorial excellence of my individually approved decor and the freedom of having my own mission.
Sic transit gloria mundi