Where I Write

It’s not glamorous or spacious at all (and half the time, it ends up being the “store room” for diapers, laundry detergent, and roles of toilet paper—lovely, I know—and anything else we can’t find a place for after a big trip to Costco), but one thing I’m so grateful for is a real office to call my own—a place where I can close the door, have a little peace, and be creative. When we bought our house six years ago, my husband graciously let me have the only “office” in the house (which is really just a room we converted from an old laundry room on the first floor). I’ve gone through many chairs, finally trading in a cuter one for this ergonomic number that may not be that great looking, but it doesn’t leave me with a stiff back.

My office is a thoroughfare in this house. It has two doors, so the kids ride their trucks in and out, and leave a path of toys and messiness in the their wake. It connects to the family room, so I can sneak off to write an email or work on a blog post (like now!) while they play or watch Sesame Street in the mornings.

I’ve written hundreds of articles, thousands of blog posts and three and a half books in this office. 🙂