Change =/= rest

Heh. That was fun... *is knackered now*

For years, years, I have been saying that the arrangement of my office was All Wrong, and I needed to get rid of some stuff and move everything else around. But it was of course never the right time, and besides I'd need someone else to come and help me, and and and...

Yesterday I was out with m'friends Helen and Mark, and Mark said, "Chaz. I'm free tomorrow. How's about I come around and help you shift some stuff, and so forth...?"

So. Yup. Mark came.

We evacuated two large pieces of furniture that were doing nothing but take up space and Hold Stuff, and put them out in the back alley in the local disorganised version of Freecycle. Then Mark ripped up all the remaining staircarpet (and dug out all the revolting naily spiky carpet-retainer things, bless the man) while I unloaded and shifted and reloaded bookcases and filing cabinets and such; then we both shifted the desk.

Then he went home, and I have disentangled a spaghetti-bowl of cable and replugged in the computer. Obviously.

There is still Much To Do. Mostly shifting shelves and filing cabinets, redux. It's a sliding-tile game: can't move that until that other thing's been moved, can't move that until... etc.

Also, there is a slight question over where the printer goes now, as it used to sit on the sideboard which has been Freecycled (the furniture was in the alley for no more than a few hours before it had suddenly and mysteriously disappeared, as things do). Current theory favours "on top of the stack of two-drawer filing cabinets in that corner", which it's going to be the devil to get up there as the printer is enormous and weighs a ton, and it will be a little foolishly high above my head, but hey. Out of the way.

Mark's coming back tomorrow. Once we're all sorted, I might post photos. New office, and so forth.

Cats are conservative creatures, much like me. The boys aren't at all sure they approve. Mac has hidden himself somewhere in a pro-tem chaos of boxes; Barry has disappeared entirely. He may just be sulking, because we shut them in the dining-room and wouldn't let them help.

ETA: my desk is currently entirely clear of anything except basic computer equipment, monitor and keyboard and mouse. Oh, and a glass of wine. That's it. Feels weird...

Typical

Tired now. Want my bed.

My bed is currently occupied by two sheets of steel and a typewriter the size of a Star Trek console. (It was my first real business investment - I borrowed £600 to buy that, in 1981, and the bank manager told me that according to the book I was a really bad risk and he ought to turn me down - and I haven't used it since I got my first computer in the mid-eighties, but I couldn't bear to get rid of it. It is huge and charcoal-grey, and still inveterately sexy. Also, hi-tech! It has a one-line screen, and doesn't type anything till you reach the end of the line!)