2019 kicked off with a lot of intent. I mean, intent was always there in this humble existence but there was a certain grit to manifest things that took form alongside of the noble intentions, that often eluded the dreamer in me. To kick start things, I met with a lot of manifesters around me (if that is a word or not, I hope I conveyed what I intended to convey) For starters, I wanted to start small. "Let's get a writing desk" I thought to myself. Now, the desk in question needed a view, and it isn't a view of the neighbor's garbage containers I was aspiring to have, so things got a little complicated. I skimmed around the perimeter of the house and identified a huge window in the huge guest room down stairs. "I need a room of my own" I announced, "I am fed up of not knowing my own boundaries" The man of the house (Bless his heart) in the sentiment to never deny anything I ask for, said "But ofcourse you need a room of your own, and you have the master suite"
Now if that isn't manipulation, I don't know what is. I promptly presented my counter argument. " I said I want a room of my own, my space, my desk and my view...something I don't intend to share with anyone, yourself included"
The first born was eavesdropping on the conversation like she normally does on every word I breath. "You are so preposterous mother" She inserted her teen eye roll for added effect. Thankfully a part of my manifestation manifesto was also to stay silent unless the situation absolutely demanded. So I silently ignored her instigation and went on my mission. "I want a mid century modern desk by this window" I announced. "Huh?" came another condescending interjection paired with the characteristic eye roll from the first born. "Where do you get your fancy ideas from?"
I ignored it again, much to the first born's dismay. She tried to up her irritation meter but I continued to ignore her while I got on to an online second hand market, looking for a roll top secretary desk, preferably made in the mid century, preferably in like new condition and with all the drawers sliding out well and the keys in full function.
Soon enough I was eyeing the object of my desire - a near mint secretary desk with a roll top and a functional key in tow. I initiated a conversation with the seller and somewhere down the line, I figured that I needed to drive out of my way to lug it home, or needed to pay as much as for the object itself to get it delivered. Both options seemed far fetched and I promptly resumed my search to find something more manifestable(If there's such a word or if you know what I mean;))
The next time around I found something that had some character to it, it wasn't in mint condition, the key was missing and it needed come TLC..Now, TLC is something that I voluntarily give to everything I cross paths with, why wouldn't I, in the name of holy spirit, not give it to a desk that would aid my sanity? As my writings are my lifeline and when I engage in the soliloquy to preserve the last of my endangered grey matter, this blessed desk was to bear the burden of it all, quite literally and figuratively...
The logistics were figured out soon enough. The man of the house thought through excuses to not use his SUV to lug it home...that's the thing about OCD clean men, they keep their surroundings pristine and wouldn't want an near abandoned piece of furniture to rattle in their car trunk making scuffs and dents to their prized leather seats and interiors. Now, he was facilitating my space, so I had to honor his and I arranged for a lug. Behind all this unfolding, a pesky voice inside my head kept whispering to me that this wasn't going to happen. I swear, I had this strongest of intuitions that the seller was going to have some sort of a "Seller's remorse" and guess what?
Like most of the times, my intuition did come true. The next morning he emails me saying he decided against parting with his prized antique. I for once did have a doubt about what prompted him to think his almost irrelevant desk is going to fetch him moolah that might aid a retirement. It probably is yours truly's enthusiasm around the said object :)
Back on track - but this threw things off track. I was spending prodigious amounts of time to figure a little detail and it didn't make me feel very proud of the way I was using my time. I had to manifest things and I had to - Pronto. So, I promptly decided that staying married to this idea of a Scandinavian Danish or Swedish made mid century modern piece of furniture isn't going to pay in the long run. Just as I broadened my horizons, I found this solid teak writing desk that didn't look anything like what I previously wanted, but actually looked more practical and manifestable.
A few emails down, I was almost there...well, 'almost' being the operative word. And guess what happens? The seller comes back to me saying a local consignment offered him 3 times his asking price...I tried all I could to be my graceful best and said I didn't want to step on his toes if he decides to flake out on his commitment to sell it to me. He did comeback saying he would honor the price, just because....
I jumped on the offer, paid a little more than the asking price to have it lugged to my doorstep, sight unseen. I am known for that kind of decisions, and guess what? The universe has a way of letting trusting people like me win. The other inhabitants of the house were equally pleased with the desk - the man even went to whistle slightly and said "Things happen for a reason, look where your MCM craze landed you - what a handsome desk this!"
The desk, in all honesty, arrived like a dream posing as a desk and as we speak, it gives me this immense sense of belonging and completion while it sits by the window offering me a view of the side yard while housing my paraphernalia and this device that records my banter. It has tell tale signs of a well served past and the TLC it needs, it would get from its current owner, without even having to ask for it.
I feel like I am operating my own 'Restoration Hardware' and while I type away, I remember my time in Edinburgh where I spotted the cafe in which JK Rowling typed her Potter script during her struggling days. No I am not drawing a parallel between my Goddess and me, that audacity I don't have, but I am just going to say that in my own humble way, like I operate my own humble 'Restoration hardware' I would also sing elaborate praises of my literary Goddess, thinking of how she would have manifested Mr.Potter and his whole shebang in that head of hers - all of this tied down to a desk, a used, not needed one that gets a new lease of life in my little personal space.
Talk about an invisible network like the central nervous system connecting the cosmos...Sorry people, I couldn't resist inserting my spiritual side to the materialistic and mundane :)
Pictured - The Desk that could have been. Please keep checking back for a preview of the desk that Is :)
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