Photo by Grovemade on Unsplash
Over the weekend, my wife and I were talking about how good it would be to finally replace our old, beat-up couch in the living room. I don’t even remember where we originally got it—I just know we hated it from the very first day we assembled it. It’s too small, the back cushions are too soft, and if you lean back for more than twenty minutes, you end up pressed against the hard frame and needing a chiropractor. Most of the time we double up the cushions to make it usable, which also means there’s now a silent competition in our house: whoever grabs the extra cushion gets an additional twenty minutes of comfort.
Since we had both taken Monday off to enjoy a long weekend, we toyed with the idea of driving to IKEA in Charlotte to explore some options. But the idea of spending five hours round-trip in a car just to “browse”—knowing full well we couldn’t bring anything home anyway—made us rethink our plan. So we tried something smarter: we visited a local furniture store that had a couch we had seen in an ad. After walking the floor and giving it the proper test sit, we liked it enough to bring it home—well, virtually. We decided to order it online because it will be $100 cheaper that way. Practicality wins again.
When we got home, one innocent thought—“Let’s get a new couch”—triggered a domino effect. Suddenly we were talking about redecorating the entire living room, and five minutes later we were already on phase two of Home Makeover Madness: should we move my home office so that the living room can go into the bigger room instead?
See, my office is currently in the largest room in the house. It also happens to contain seven bookshelves packed to the ceiling with books we’ve collected, been gifted, or rescued from used bookstores over the years. I also have two desks—one for meetings where I mostly listen and don’t need to take a lot of notes, and another where I do “real work” like writing, coding, and juggling five open browser windows and two terminals like a caffeinated raccoon. This is the desk I have a big monitor that lets me pretend I’m in a spaceship, which helps with productivity… emotionally, if nothing else.
I admit, I love my office. But sometimes I feel a little spoiled having the biggest room in the house all to myself. And every now and then, the thought crosses my mind: maybe it should be a shared family space—somewhere cozy where we could listen to music together, watch movies, or just exist in the same room without stepping over each other.
My oldest daughter, coincidentally on the same day, asked me why I don’t just get rid of everything and work only from my laptop. “It already has a keyboard, a webcam, a screen—what do you need all that other stuff for?” she asked. She wasn’t being rude—just curious.
Here’s the truth: sure, I could simplify. I’ve gone through minimalist phases before. But there’s something deeply satisfying about using a mechanical keyboard. That click-clack sound calms my brain. It makes words flow and code appear like magic. Typing on it feels like playing a small instrument—one that produces blog posts and software instead of music.
In the end, we decided not to uproot the living room yet. Instead, we gave it a little refresh—moved some furniture around, adjusted the lighting, made it feel a little warmer. Even without the new couch (yet), it already feels more comfortable. I tweaked my office setup just a bit, but I’m keeping my two desks for now and the tools I’ve come to rely on.
I’ve danced between minimalism and full-on command center more times than I can count. The final word hasn’t been spoken yet—but for now, I’m keeping things as they are. My office is where I spend most of my day, but it has gradually become something more: it’s also the room where my daughters wander in when they need peace, want to read, listen to music, or just sit quietly in good company.
And honestly? I’m not ready to give that up.