Ever since we moved here nearly four years ago, Marie and I have shared an office. It wasn’t much – a table from Ikea about six feet long and a couple chairs along one wall in the guest room. Marie’s days were spent at the offices of 8th & Walton, Jeff’s company. I occasionally needed a place to pay some bills and handle minor correspondence. It was perfect.
But that all changed last March. At the first hint of the pandemic, Jeff sent everyone home to continue operations via Zoom. A good decision – the horror stories that abound wherein entire offices succumb to the Covid virus never touched his staff. So for who knows how long, Marie would be working from a home office.
About the same time I returned home from a road trip in GrandpaLyle’s Ark. And, after seven years of joy and heartache, sold the Ark – another story for another time. With a newfound abundance of time, I opted to expand the blog ontheroadagainagain.com and include those stories here in GrandpaLyle’s Notebook. Now I needed a place to write – an office.
Working as a couple from home is interesting. For twenty-five years, Marie and I were together 24/7 running our publishing company and raising six kids. But we each had our own office. Against all odds, it worked just fine.
But now, not only did we no longer have private offices – we shared a desk. We were now truly together 24/7. The only time I was more than five away from Marie was when she took a shower. The Ikea office was wearing thin.
Marie and I live in a modest home, but it does have three closets. I realized that for a hundred bucks one of them could become a private office. So I moved. Marie now uses the entire six-foot desk as a base for extensive Zoom, computer and phone interaction with colleagues and customers.
And the closet in our media room has become the Murphy bed of offices. All I have to do is open the doors and I’m set to crank out the next posts to GrandpaLyle’s Notebook. Life can be good … even in the times of Covid.