(Want to hear me read this piece aloud to you? Just press the play button above.)
Getting older is wild. And I’m one of those people who really doesn’t mind aging, but many of the things that used to come easily to me, physically? Well, not so much anymore.
I never had to put much thought and energy into things like, say, finding the ideal space to comfortably write in. I could simply plop myself down on the floor (goodness help me, if I am sitting on the floor now, I promise you it was not on purpose) with a notebook or a laptop and just…write. Now? Well, it’s an entirely different scene.
Let’s take this morning, for example. It’s a Saturday morning, so I allow myself a good 30 minutes to just appreciate it being a Saturday morning with nowhere to be. Then I slowly muster up the strength to get out of bed (read: I need to pee and it is no longer a choice, I’m getting up). As I do, I notice how my body has some aches and pains, likely from the day before of doing strenuous activities like walking room to room around my house. You know, from the kitchen to the living room, to my bedroom to the bathroom — basically Olympic training.
So, I pop an ibuprofen and say Godspeed to those pesky aches, and it dawns on me that poppin’ pills means something much different now in my 40s than it did in my 20s. (As I type this, I am happy to report that those tiny pains are melting away, at least temporarily, and I feel like I’m 36 again! At least for a little while.)
I knew I wanted to get some writing done this morning, but since my criss-cross-applesauce-on-the-floor days are long in the rearview, I started scanning my house for a place to do so that wasn’t my desk. I love my workspace, but I spend a lot of time there during the week, and it’s not where I want to get creative on a Saturday morning with a cup of Chai and one of my typewriters. So, as my tea kettle begins to warm up some water, I decide to experiment in some different spots.
Attempt 1: The Couch
I plunk myself down on my mid-mod sectional, put my current favorite typer in front of me and think, “If this works, it’s going to be genius! Why haven’t I tried this before?” After about 10 seconds of typing, I can tell you why: It’s awful.
The cushions that are comfy for my bottom made my typewriter operate like a child’s birthday bouncy house. And the words smeared on the page looking like someone who woke up after a night of drinking, forgetting to take their mascara off before crashing.
Attempt 2: Patio Table and Chair
My tea is now steeping and while it does, I remember a cute patio table I got on clearance a few summers back. It is tiny and round and rarely used because New Mexico summers are HOT, so the reality of wanting to sit outside vs. actually doing so are quite different.
Note: It’s at this time that I remember an issue a friend has been having with a typewriter I gave them, and so I spend some time figuring out how to fix it. Success!
Okay, so where was I? Oh, right, using patio furniture in my living room.
I set it up by the window AND by the floor lamp for the natural light AND the warm glow of a perfect light bulb, for optimal lighting. I sit down on the matching patio chair and see that the table is an ideal height for me to sit and massage typewriter keys. I think to myself, “Now, we are in business.”
But, within seconds once again, I realize this is a big N. O. If my back could talk, she would have said, with great attitude, “Um, try again. This patio chair is garbage!” Tell that to 22-year-old me who could take shots of Jagermeister while sitting on a folding chair held together by duct tape for hours with zero pain. Well, there was pain, but that was the following morning, but from the Jager, not the chair. Again, getting older is WILD.
Attempt 2 ½: Patio Table and Office Chair
I wheel over my office chair because, despite it being a chair I sit in all week, it doesn’t quite hit like sitting in my workspace, so it gets approval to enter the Saturday morning creative space in the making. I tap tap tap on the typewriter keys, typing the sentence I always type to test a machine out; kind of like a written version of, “Mic check, 1! Mic check 1, 2, 3!” This feels preeeetty good, but not quite what I need just yet.
Attempt 3 (and 4? I’m not sure how I’m measuring attempts anymore): Pillows
This Goldilocks goes and gets a pillow for makeshift lumbar support. “Ooooo, that’s better,” I think to myself, but not great by any means. So, to the linen closet I go to grab a spare pillow for more support. And with all this up and down, I’m even more grateful I took that ibuprofen.
This extra pillow? It feels ohhhh, so lovely. So, I start typing away and reach for my tea. Where the heck is my Chai? Ugh, it’s in the kitchen. Up one more time only to discover my tea isn’t hot anymore. It’s lukewarm at best. Instead of taking up more writing time, I resign myself to drinking it cold. (But this makes sense, right? Because it’s a patio table, and I can make believe it’s a warm, sunny day out.)
So here I am now, typing away at a patio table in my living room, sitting in my office chair with two ridiculous pillows to support my back, all hopped up on cold Chai, trying to write something of note. And that will have to be enough for today.
Or, maybe, it’s juuuust right.
Perfect description (with some changes of furniture, etc.) of my attempt to write...you must have a camera in my apartment!
Seriously....great fun to read...mi, gracias 🙏
Yeah, I SO relate! I even tried sitting in the hot tub with the cover only halfway back with my laptop balanced on it. What was I thinking?!? LOL