I've been a little concerned by the heat generated by the laptop whilst I'm sat with it on my knee for hours on end applying for jobs and updating the blog.
Since Mr G cleared a space at the top of our landing that was hitherto piled high with boxes since we moved in (2 1/2 years ago), I decided to get a desk where I could sit properly to type and keep track of all my applications.
And so, yesterday I went on The Great Desk Hunt with my Dad, my sister and her son. After a disappointing start, a mandatory argument with a B&Q employee, and a brief panic (on my part- I'm always doing this) where I thought my nephew was unconscious (he was, as I'd been reassured 12 times by his mother, merely asleep) we swung by Argos and found The One.
Even better, my Dad bought it for me as a birthday present!
An amusing car journey followed, where I had to balance part of the desk on my shoulder in the back of the car (picture attached somewhere), and thought I was going to collapse a lung in the process.
Finally, I got it home, took all the components out of the boxes, emptied about 3,000 screws all over the floor and opened the instruction manual.
Mr G had come upstairs to start putting away "Clothes Mountain", an obscenely high pile of clean clothes that I've been picking off the line and throwing on the spare bed for approximately 5 weeks. He stuck his head round the door to see how I was getting on, and I looked back at him rather blankly.
"How's it going love?!" he laughed. "I thought you might struggle a bit with all the diagrams", he offered.
Outraged, I notified him that just 12 short years ago I was sitting a GCSE in Design Communication, where I had to draw such diagrams myself. What a cheek! To think my spatial awareness was so poor that I could not follow a set of basic instructions put together a simple flat pack desk!
"Do you wanna swap jobs?" I asked.
"Yes" He replied.
Somewhere I'll have (hopefully) attached a photo of my new Carrie Bradshaw style desk, where I am now sat quietly with the lovely evening breeze sweeping through the window as Mr G has a little snooze downstairs following a hard day at work.