Long time readers here will know there has been no love lost between me and my old house. We got a great deal on it as a foreclosure, and we always intended to fix it up quickly and then move on to something bigger, but, well, here we are more than a decade later and the house is still a dump, but we’re finally moving someplace bigger.

When I was growing up, a two-story house was the ultimate measure of success. I never liked the McMansions, and I knew there were plenty of sketchy two-story houses, but a good old-fashioned colonial was always my brass ring and I finally have one.

In our old house my desk was in the middle of the family room and not ideal for quiet and deep work. The new house has this chunk off the master bedroom that’s almost as big as my bedroom growing up and it’s perfect and quiet.

The desk is actually a table that Becky had her computer on when we met. Every bit of fiction I’ve ever been paid for has been written at some point at this desk. I thought about getting something nicer and smaller when we moved, but I love this desk so why mess with a good thing?