A Slow Descent to Madness

My workspace is a 6-foot long desk. It was designed by my husband and built by his dad, who is an incredibly skilled carpenter with his own cabinetry shop. I kinda sorta took over the desk. It’s my preferred place to write. My notes and files are nearby, and there’s plenty of workspace for my ingenious piling system. You’d think an issue I’d be facing is mobility, but I haven’t really had a problem with that yet. It’s true I don’t write well in public. I mean, I can write quantitatively in public, but I delete most of it when I get home. It’s difficult for me to be inspired when there are strangers around. I know it’s because I’m self-conscious.

My husband says I’m hilarious when I’m in the zone. He says I make faces and chuckle. Hey, I enjoy what I do! It just bubbles up sometimes! I also talk to myself regularly when I’m working on dialogue between characters. I have to hear it aloud to know it’s right. I also test out my characters’ physical reactions and facial expressions. But I have a slight hang-up about giving soliloquies in public. I’ve considered wearing an old Bluetooth to pretend I’m talking on the phone when the need arises.

Okay, so here’s the bane of my writing existence lately: my chair. It’s one of those plastic, height adjustable varieties. I waited for a sale day and bought the cheapest one that tilted, swiveled, and had a back tall enough to keep me from toppling over when I leaned back. I wasn’t that picky. The seat has hardly any cushion. I don’t care. The back is at a lazy angle for sitting up straight. No problem; I sit in it Indian-style (or Yoga “Easy Pose,” if you prefer the PC name for it) and try not to slouch all the time. The air cylinder mechanism doesn’t work. It leaks out slowly, causing the chair to lower gradually while the seat turns in minute degrees. Sometimes, I can perch precariously enough that it will stay the same height… until I get up and sit back down. That happens frequently. So, my descent back to the lowest chair setting drives me batty! I’ll be typing away and find my body has turned 90 degrees from my arms before there seems to be some deterrent–mainly, I can’t type with my arms behind me. I know, what’s wrong with me, right? Isn’t there a Yoga pose to correct that?

So, here I am, rising from my chair and releasing the handle to maximum height every few minutes. It’s completely inefficient and irksome. But it could be worse; I could be sitting in Panera Bread, my eyebrows quirked, muttering all kinds of inane statements.

Author: Rilla Z

I'm a scribbler. I'm genuine. My topics of interest are: this world, the worlds inside my head, and the world to come. Oh, and cups of tea. Yes, I write about my cups of tea.

14 thoughts on “A Slow Descent to Madness”

  1. Hmm, you just described the chair in my day job office. . . . I couldn’t put up with that at home! I might let it stay in its lowest position and add a large book/pillow combination to bring me to the right height and stay there. 🙂


    1. I’m beginning to think chairs are like shoes: Comfort and performance are a must, and I’ll end up paying for going the inexpensive route. Besides, in the long run I’m spending more money replacing a junky chair sooner. Now I need to save the money for a new chair and test out this theory. 🙂


  2. Subpar writing chairs are the bane of a writer’s existence. I get too lost in my craft to notice that my free arm chair causes a cramp in my back and neck and results in bruised tailbone syndrome (at least it stopped smelling distractingly of band-aids a while back). I should probably move to the dining room table or the couch, or insist on having part of the desk that Mr. Wonderful appropriated back, but if I can’t have a shut door and a room apart, I insist on at least having a corner where I’m not paranoid about someone hanging out behind me.

    Glad to hear that the writing is flowing and your husband landed on his feet!


    1. Lol! Oh, how much we have in common. The story must be perfect, but a good chair to encourage top writing? Meh. I’m for reappropriating your part of the desk, then scheming to take the whole desk over. Yes, I’m cackling. 🙂 Thanks!


  3. Hi: I wanted to thank you for visiting my blog and liking my post. I thought I left a comment on this particular post of yours , but I don’t see it. So I came back to leave it again. I was laughing so hard picturing the blue tooth scenario you mentioned. That’s just too funny. I remember when I first saw one of those. I was still smoking and was taking a smoke break outside my office in Princeton, NJ. Someone was standing on the curb talking up a storm. Of course, you’re going to stare. All I could think was this person is crazy. This went on for about 5 minutes, then she turned around. Whenever I think of that today, I still have to laugh at myself.
    Veronica Singleton.


    1. Hi, Veronica! Yes, I saw you were having trouble with your previous comment. Didn’t know if you wanted me to post it, so I kept it to myself instead. (Thank you for that attempt, btw! I wanted to message you and ask, but I still haven’t figured out how to message a fellow WP blogger about stuff like this. I’ve been told it is rude to send an email without the blogger’s permission. Is there a PM feature on WP that I’m missing?)

      I had something similar to your experience happen to me in a parking lot. It looked like the woman was having an argument with herself. I thought she was crazy and volatile. I waited to approach my car–she was pacing next to it–until I saw the phone piece in her ear. 😀 Thanks again!


  4. I think you need to keep that chair. One of the biggest problems I face — day job is sitting at the computer all day, then I go home and sit at the computer some more — is lack of exercise. A chair which forces you to stand, readjust, sit and repeat is its own exercise machine. I’m thinking you could market those, so much more practical than trying to balance on one of those giant balls while working. 😉

    And I’m with you on writing in public. I act out scenes to make sure I’m getting them right which would, no doubt, get me a quick trip to the local padded cell. Although, three little words would most likely get the sympathetic nod and smile. “I’m a writer.”


    1. Yes, I was thinking it would be a motivator to get up and move, too, though I’m generally distracted enough to get up and down anyway.

      I don’t know that “I’m a writer” actually means a person will receive less stares. Though I can envision the smiling and nodding. 🙂


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