Desk Sweet Desk

In the grand scheme of world events, a new desk might not exactly qualify as breaking news. CNN has yet to knock on my door. But here at farm HQ, where paperwork mysteriously multiplies like unchaperoned rabbits, this is front-page material. See, I’m the one who handles all things paper—bills, tax stuff, registration forms, insurance documents, and mysterious receipts that no one remembers making but are somehow vital. So while the rest of the world carries on, I’ve been waging a one-woman war against chaos armed with nothing but a file cabinet and a slab of particle board.

For years I’ve managed with “alternative workspaces”—a term I use to make it sound fancier than it is. I've used the dining table, an old TV tray, a bookshelf turned sideways, and once, for a brief and dark period, a collapsible card table that had a distinct wobble and smelled faintly of basement. If it had a flat surface, I’ve tried to make it work. Because let’s be honest—desks are expensive, and why buy one when you can make one out of scraps and imagination?

But lately, my trusty little setup—lovingly referred to as "The FrankenDesk"—has started to feel more like a junk drawer with Wi-Fi. Picture a narrow slab of wood spanning a file cabinet on one end and an old cupboard on the other, with a printer perched on top like a gargoyle watching over a nest of tangled cords. It was functional, sure, but about as inspiring as a DMV waiting room.

So I did it. I took the plunge. I went desk shopping.

Friends, nothing could have prepared me.

I walked into the furniture store expecting maybe five options. Instead, I was met with a sea of desks: flattops, rolltops, glass-tops, desks shaped like executive battle stations, and desks so small they’d make a Barbie dream house look spacious. Some had drawers. Some had secret compartments. Some looked like they required an engineering degree and an allen wrench to assemble. And the price tags? Let’s just say there were a few where I had to sit down on the showroom couch and breathe into a paper bag.

The sales lady, God bless her, saw the panic in my eyes and gently offered to copy some catalog pages for me. "Take them home," she said, "live with them a while." Like stray kittens or paint samples. And so I did.

I spent the next two days living with pictures of desks taped to the wall. Measuring. Squinting. Imagining. Muttering things like “Would I regret going with Mission Oak?” and “Does this drawer configuration speak to my soul?”

Finally, I found the one. A beautiful rolltop. She’s a classic—rich wood tone, drawers galore, and a soul steeped in old-school charm. The top is full of little cubbies and drawers perfect for organizing paper clips, push pins, stamps, sticky notes, flash drives, old birthday cards, dried-up pens I can’t bring myself to toss, and at least four pairs of scissors that will still go mysteriously missing. And the best part? When the clutter starts to take over (because let’s be honest, it will), I can just roll down the top and—voilà—instant respectability. It’s the adult version of shoving everything under the bed when company comes.

Of course, now that I have a new desk, the wall behind it needs repainting. I mean, obviously. You can’t just slap a shiny new piece of furniture in front of faded old paint—it’s like wearing a ball gown with barn boots. Which means the whole living/dining/home-office multipurpose room needs painting. And if that room gets a facelift, well, the adjoining room is going to start feeling a little left out…

It’s like home renovation dominoes. You knock one over and suddenly you’re pricing curtains and considering crown molding.

But that’s a project for another day. Today I sit at my glorious new desk, sipping hot chocolate, surrounded by drawers that glide smoothly and a surface free of paper towers. It’s not world-changing. But for me, it’s a little island of order in a sea of daily farm-life chaos.

Sure, she’s old-fashioned, but so am I—and with all her tiny drawers and the ability to roll down the front and hide my inevitable mess, she’s basically the desk version of Spanx. And that, my friends, is priceless.

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Resolutions

The first week of the new year has come and gone—and so have my New Year’s resolutions. Off they galloped into the snowy distance like a herd of goats that just noticed I left the gate open. I had such high hopes, such bold ambition. I was going to be healthier! More active! Better organized! And thinner by accident!

Instead, I’m sitting here in fleece pajamas, surrounded by cookie crumbs, typing this with fingers slightly sticky from a leftover candy cane I found in my coat pocket. If you need a visual, imagine Cookie Monster and a hibernating bear had a baby and gave it a laptop.

Let’s do a little post-mortem, shall we?

Resolution #1: Eat Healthier
Now, I didn’t say “go on a diet,” because I’ve reached the age where I know myself. Diets are like bad boyfriends: they promise you everything, leave you cranky and hungry, and in the end, you end up crying into a sleeve of Oreos wondering where it all went wrong.

So I figured I’d just eat healthier. Reasonable, right? Swap chips for carrots. Cut back on sugar. Maybe steam some broccoli. I made it all of four hours. I was doing so well—eggs for breakfast, some plain Greek yogurt, a banana that wasn’t even bruised yet.

And then a neighbor showed up with cookies. Homemade. Still warm. I barely remember what happened next—it’s all a blur of butter, sugar, and shame. All I know is that by 2:00 PM I was covered in crumbs, looking down at my fourth cookie like, “Well, I can’t stop now, that’d be rude.”

By dinner, I was full of regret and also lasagna.

Resolution #2: Exercise 15 Minutes Every Morning
Okay, stop laughing. It seemed doable at the time. I mean, fifteen minutes? That’s barely enough time to complain about how cold it is outside.

But here in northern New Hampshire, walking outdoors in January is what you do when you’re tired of living. So, I turned to my trusty treadmill—if by “trusty” you mean “completely buried under a year’s worth of seasonal junk, two feed bags, a winter coat I thought I lost, and something I think might be a Halloween decoration from 2008.”

When I finally dug it out, I realized I hadn’t plugged it in since I bought it. Last year. In February. It still had the “remove protective plastic before use” label on the screen. Let’s just say the only cardio happening so far is me breathing heavily after lifting the vacuum cleaner to get to the extension cord.

So, no. No 15-minute workouts. But I have been thinking about working out a lot, and mentally, I’m in the best shape of my life.

Resolution #3: Bring My Last Year's Accounting Up to Date
I started this one. Honest. I even sharpened a pencil for it and everything. I opened the ledger, pulled out receipts, created a spreadsheet, and stared at it like it might magically balance itself if I just looked at it with enough guilt.

By Day 3, I had organized everything from January through March. Then I accidentally spilled hot chocolate on April. So technically, I’ve finished a quarter of the year and sweetened the second quarter.

On the plus side, I now know exactly how much I spent on goat dewormer and chicken scratch last year. Which is knowledge that will be very useful if I ever go on Jeopardy!

Resolution #4: Be More Organized
Hoo boy. This one went off the rails faster than a toddler on espresso. I had color-coded folders, a to-do list app on my phone, and a brand-new planner with inspirational quotes and space for weekly goals. It was going to be my Year of the Binder.

I lost the binder. I think it’s under the stack of seed catalogs and unfinished crochet projects on my desk. My to-do list is now just a collection of notes scrawled on old feed tags and the back of the electric bill. I’d like to say I’m working on decluttering, but I can’t find the list of things I planned to declutter.

Also, I bought three new organizational bins, then promptly filled them with more chaos. So… progress?

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Resolution Survival Rate:

New Year's Resolution Success Chart:

[✓] Eat Healthier..........................  0% Success (Cookies won.)
[✓] Exercise 15 Min/Day..............  0% Success (Treadmill still pouting.)
[✓] Catch Up Accounting...... 25% Success (Up to March. Go me!)
[✓] Be More Organized...................  2% Success (I *own* a planner.)

Average Success Rate:     6.75%
Moral Victory Rate:     100% (I got dressed twice and cooked vegetables once.

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So what about you? Have your resolutions been thriving, or are they already circling the drain with mine, holding hands and singing “Auld Lang Syne” while eating leftover holiday candy?

If you’ve kept even one resolution, I salute you. You are a beacon of hope in a sea of fallen gym memberships and abandoned meal plans. But if you’re like the rest of us, slowly returning to your natural state of post-holiday comfort, surrounded by snacks and denial—welcome. Pull up a chair. I saved you a cookie.

Here’s to the New Year: may our coffee be strong, our sweatpants forgiving, and our goals just realistic enough to trick us into trying again next week.

Please leave a comment below. I love hearing from you.