When I finally got an at home job, I totally celebrated…

…by morphing into Quasimodo.

I failed to prepare (buy a decent desk setup) for my new computer based career and I paid for it, ultimately. My whole body became one, singular tight muscle a mere month after starting work. Was it this bad in college? How come my neck, rotator cuff, and back didn’t bother me so much back then? I don’t remember struggling this much.

Maybe it’s because back then my ass wasn’t welded to furniture for more hours of the day than not.

When I was young, bright eyed, and spending the endless well of money I didn’t entirely work for, being social seemed a lot more alluring. Living in a college dorm, I was constantly reminded other people did indeed exist. But over the years, I graduated. Herniated discs and life in general happened (parallel to the to-do list and financial obligations). Solipsism subsequently slowly set in (pain is like the opposite of social lubricant). Add an in-home job where inspiration is at least partly required to be successful, and that “I’m the only one” belief system snowballs. When pain makes people-mingling seem like a non-option, I try to work instead. Then the cycle resumes with renewed strength ’cause pain’s bad for productivity too.

Realizing this, I set forth on a quest to try numerous work stations setups for my laptop. What ensued was no less than a Goldilocks gadet gag reel.

There was:
1. sitting on the couch
2. laying on the couch
3. airplane pillow on my neck
4. airplane pillow under my ass
5. the reverse chandelier (just kidding. that’s a kama sutra position. I think.)
6. the coffee table as a desk
7. physioball with chair setup
8. the “fuck this shit; I’m not leaving bed” setup
9. the floor fort-made-of-every-pillow I own arrangement
10. When my mind went numb, I even considered the Lebouf desk:

Don't be shy, Shia. Looks like you're sharing something you actually own.
Don’t be shy, Shia. Looks like you’re sharing something you actually own.

Nada worked. Maybe I needed a new desk?

Nope. After actually asking somebody else, I realized my eye-level/wrist-placement was my biggest problem.

Learning that laptop ergonomics (not a new desk) was the issue to address, I followed the bluetoothprints laid out for me by men who’ve been doing this sorta work for far longer, and bought myself a wireless keyboard. So much better.

However, as a perpetually discontent “does my neighbor have something better’n me?” person, I continue to seek all the next-level innovations (without which I feel spiritually bereft once I know they exist on Earth and are being played with by other children instead of me).

Well, that and I’ve still got the problem of sitting too much once I finally get inspired enough to jot down my mental meanderings. And that’s no good. While wondering whether my work posture could move from atavistic Australopithecus to author-in-action, I came across this treadmill desk.

Click here for part two: treadmill desk.

Stay here for a blog that ends in a bomb of bathos.