It’s been almost two weeks since my computer died–a victim of my eagerness to "get it done." I was notified that a new Microsoft Service Pack was ready for installation. This was an hour before leaving on a business trip for three days, so mixed in with the installation was last minute packing. I made the mistake of unplugging the ethernet cable during the install (don’t ask me why), which caused a fatal failure during startup. My laptop has been silent since.  Even the Geeks on Call guy couldn’t get it up and running again.

I’ve ordered a new laptop. In the meantime, I’m using my son’s computer while he’s at school, and my husband’s computer in the evenings. My office rotates between a teenage boy’s room, a utilitarian basement, and the backyard patio, when the weather is nice. My calendar is on a pad of paper, sketched out by day for the next two weeks.

What I’m noticing is that I’m not as adaptable as I thought. Or maybe it’s age. I’ve found it difficult to coach clients while sitting at the desk in my son’s room. The desk is full size but the chair is from a set of children’s table and chairs, when my kids were toddlers. You feel small when sitting in the chair, looking up at the computer monitor, hands raised to reach the keyboard.

It’s not just the chair that’s a distraction. Current inventory of the top of his desk:

• One gray Lego structure from the Star Wars series, a big robot like thing with turrets and guns protruding from the front and sides. If I look really hard, the front resembles a face with the guns coming out like a pair of cigarettes.
• Three dimes, two pennies.
• 4 packs of Pentel pencil leads for a mechanical pencil that is nowhere to be seen. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.
• Assorted dice, blue and silver, tetrahedrons and cubes, used for multi-player online video games and Dungeon and Dragons.
• One-inch high figure of a medieval warrior, holding a shield in one hand and an ax in the other, covered in armor. Small but hefty looking.
• Flash memory, bought at the beginning of the school year, after giving into pleas to upgrade to larger capacity.
• Another Lego structure, appearing to be the Star Wars version of a scooter.
• Pair of wooden chopsticks. I wouldn’t suggest using these for anything resembling eating.
• The extension for our home phone. In a house with teenagers, the phone calls are never for me. 
• One of the books that’s being discussed at school, Shackleton’s Stowaway.
• School ID card from last year, 7th grade. Like now, it’s a image that immediately makes a mother say, "You need a haircut, really, you do."
• Pocket knife/tool. A sign of being ready for anything, but rarely used in any constructive fashion.
• Mini-flashlight. I wonder if the batteries are still good.
• Manual for the video game, Command and Conquer with a green, menacing looking character on the front
• Multiple Lego figures, beige and human looking except for the longish head that resembles a beak gone wild, again from Star Wars. I can’t decide if these are friendly allies or dangerous aliens.
• A small lamp.
• Not one, but two wireless mouses. The one in use has special stuff for gaming.
• A 21 inch computer monitor
• Wireless keyboard.
• Power strip with 6 cords plugged in.
• Electronic speller and dictionary, in a credit card sized blue case.

Everything is covered in a visible layer of dust. This is only the top of the desk. I haven’t even described what’s on the other shelves, the surrounding floor, the bookcase, the bed, the window seat (which has enough room for a few ants to sit down on) or the closet. I’d take a picture, but honestly, the entire room is best left up to the imagination.

Some of my readers, the ones who have already reached the empty nester stage, may be seeing this through the eyes of a parent missing the visible signs of their off spring being around. It may be a nice perspective for me–in 5 years. For now, I’m ready to get back to my home office, in one room, sans dust and Legos and dice and pencil leads, in my regular sized chair. If I close my eyes really tight, I can almost see me there, now.