Let me take you back to the last time I saw my floor, and the circumstances leading to its disappearance.
*Six months to two weeks ago:
Starting and growing a service based business is somewhat different in space requirements to that of a product based business.
You need a desk, a computer and printer, and a file cabinet (until the business grows and woo hoo a second one is required). Then the stuff that goes on the desk - noddy head toy, stress balls, large doodle pad (lots of doodling time in the early days) - and of course pens in all the colours of the rainbow (if one is going to doodle, then one's doodles should be attractive) along with paper clips (for chain making) and so on.
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| A paperclip chain is a must have in any decent office environment |
You might also require a car - however I don't park mine in my office so I'm not including that.
When you have products to sell, you need all of the above - and then you need the storage space for for your lovely products. Day one of the whole new life is easy - there's no stock at that point, so the office (which like many home based businesses starts on the kitchen table) is quite spacious. You look around at your new work environment, nod a little in time to the noddy toy whilst thinking "damn fine office...and so neat - and hey, I've got a floor".
By the time 6 months has rolled around it's a whole different story. You can no longer work from the table because the rest of the inconsiderate people in the house actually want to eat their meals there without balancing plates and cups on piles of beads. I think it makes meal times a little bit more fun playing 'catch the crockery' as it rolls along. Apparently though, I am the only one who has a sense of humour here.
And so us home based people are banished to the back bedroom.
But in the meantime, while we were having fun at the dinner table/office, the gremlins have been destroying our workspace. Where's all my space gone? And while we're looking for things, where the hell's my desk? Who dumped all that stuff on it? If I only had a dog these days I could turn around and glare at him or her in an accusing fashion. But I haven't, so I had to glare at the Other Half instead (it was almost as good, except I don't remember my dog ever talking back like that...).
Clearly a storage system was required for all the different types of beads and charms, then a separate area for the made up jewellery. So far so good. Then I packed everything to go to a market - still following a sort of system, still good. Then when the market finished the people who were running it wanted to get to the pub for lunch, and literally threw everyone and their goodies out of the door to lock up. Not good at all, and my system started to get a few cracks around the edges.
Meanwhile, MinzBeadz was growing slowly but surely, and the amount of stock, logically, was increasing too. So more storage, more sorting, more stacking, more labeling - ahh, nicely under control again.
And then The Son came home.
*Present day
So, his former bedroom, which housed the mess of my Other Half (his is mess, mine is work - let's make that clear), had to be relocated in MY office! Crowded you ask? Apparently only on my side of the room (I have to take his word for it as I can't actually see over the top of the piles of his mess). Periodically a paper plane flies across to me with a note that tells me how he's stretched out and comfortable over there and doesn't understand how I can be so disorganised.
My other half also puts earphones in and listens to his really bad music. At first glance this is a considerate thing to do, however random extremely loud taps of the workboots (presumably to the music), coupled with earphone deafness shouts, of a word here and a word there, do not make for a great experience. More like losing a few years off your life with fright every time one or the other occurs.
And the son seems quite comfortable in his old room, which magically has more space than when he lived in caveman fashion there before (primarily because we had the bulldozer through after he moved out).
NB: To be fair to said son, the move home is a temporary after an operation whilst needing some TLC, so not entirely his fault. Alright - not his fault at all (why must you be so pendantic?). I just don't see why he can't play at being the princess and the pea and have a few beads under the mattress - didn't he sleep enough during his operation? And from ages 13 to 18?
Anyhow, back to the story - in order to actually do some work in the day, access to the computer and desk is required. So I did a major tidy up (no mean feat given the three square centimetres I now have to move around in). I also thought that perhaps I might like to join a circus - I seem to have accomplished a fairly impressive balancing act of things on top of things... on top of things.
The good news is, I found my desk, diary, computer and pretty coloured pens and paper clip chain (I was a tad worried about the chain, it took quite some time to get it to that length). But the bad news - when I stopped being impressed by finding my desk I discovered that my floor was missing.
Theft is the only logical answer and, to whoever took it, I'd like it back NOW please.
