When my sister moved, I acquired a small table that had been in my parents' house. To get it out of the way until I could find it a home, I put it in my office. The plan was for my daughter to take it to school with her but, as it turned out, I got attached. The extra work space was just what I needed. And, as it turned out, it changed the ambience of the room, adding a cozy feel.
When it came time for my daughter to go back to school, the table stayed home.
Then, a month or so ago, I bought a new chair for my office. The old one was comfortable while I was sitting in it, but left me achy after the fact, which meant that I often ended up working in other places in the house. I made the requisite trip to a local office store, where my Goldilocks routine (too tall, too big, too expensive) yielded a few contenders but no chair that was just right.
The following week, I visited a furniture store. I knew they wouldn't have as big a selection but figured it was worth a shot.
And there it was. The chair that had the potential to be just right.
I tried to talk myself out of it. It was white (not the best choice for an office chair) and more expensive than any of the ones I'd previously considered. I walked away -- I walked around the whole store, as a matter of fact -- but ended up back in front of it.
And arranged to take it home.
When I got home that afternoon, still wondering if white (the only color it came in) was my best choice, I saw something that I'd forgotten all about.
A small, rectangular white pillow, also taken from my parents' house, sat in the mudroom, still awaiting a home in my house. Suddenly, I knew exactly where it belonged.
My office is still the same small space that it always was, but, thanks to the new additions, it feels a little different. The small table and new chair (which still makes me smile every time I look in the office) have shifted the mood of the room in a subtle way.
My little room is growing up.
P.S. I made it to the bottom of the drawer.
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