January 30, 2026

My favourite spot in the house was hidden in plain sight. Two things had to happen for me to find it.

First, I had to start writing. Not writing in the way of composing stories but in the way of writing things out in cursive. I never realized that printing is something I can do anywhere. I can print while standing, lounging on the couch, even riding in a car. Cursive writing is nowhere near that forgiving. To write in a way that is beautiful and legible, it requires me to sit in a good chair at a solid work surface. It’s not surprising that in the age before computers, when people wrote in cursive a lot, everyone had a desk. I thought about sitting at the dining room table but it’s winter and in the winter, especially in the morning before my wood stove warms up, my dining room is an ice box. That’s when I remembered the little table in the living room under the window.

The second thing that had to happen was the shortening of the table legs. I bought the table a couple of years ago for the sole purpose of putting under this window. From the moment I set that table down, I knew it was too tall. I needed to take a couple of inches off the bottom and all would be well. I had good intentions, I just never got around to it. The idea of using this table to do my writing had the added bonus of turning my favourite but unused chair into a chair I use every day. The problem was that when I sat down and tried to write it was a bit awkward. The angle was off. I was convinced that if I just chopped those legs off like I planned, I would have the perfect writing spot.

It could be wisdom that comes from age or it could be the number of times that I’ve been burned by hasty decisions that I find myself doing mock ups before making big changes. If I cut the legs and made a mistake, I wouldn’t be able to stick those pieces back on. Here is my little mock up with an Ikea table and paint cans. I wanted to be sure that it would be the right height for writing but also look good under the window.