I love my apartment in New York. I really do. But being at home has its perks, and I've gone through them before (shower pressure, doggie, big couches with fluffy pillows, unlimited snack cabinet, etc). The one perk I've never talked about is the study. It's a small room my dad intended for his own library and personal home work space, but, being the loving, sharing family we are, the kids and wife took it over long ago for our various internet endeavors and snuggled up alone with a book in a big green chair. I could call the study a computer room, but that sounds so white-walled and brightly lit. No, our study has warm tan walls and dark wooden bookshelves, framed portraits, and best of all, a big mahogany desk my dad recieved as a 40th birthday gift. If there's ONE thing I really wish I had at my apartment in New York, it would be my very own desk, preferrably near a window, a calendar hanging over it, pens and pencils in the drawer, and a stack of books-to-be-read under a lamp.
Doesn't that seem so studious and fun? I know what you're thinking: "I have many leather bound books, and my apartment smells of rich mahogany" blah blah blah. I know! It's a silly want! But a girl can dream, right? I confess: I buy most of my books because someday I would like to have my very own study, with fiction and poetry anthologies, all of my favorite books right there for a cozy re-read, and a desk where I can write to my heart's content. I wouldn't even mind if my job stayed decidedly more Office Space than Devil Wears Prada, just as long as I could have a space in which to be creative at home.