Voodoo Ergonomics
I think I'm officially crazy.
Today I bought the third computer desk in 2 years. I'm happy, though.
Here's my long and sordid computer desk history, and, before you throw stones, hey, I admitted I was crazy.
Desk #1. This is the childhood desk I'd had ever since I can remember. It's bulky and mahogany colored, and the drawer runners are all stuck, and the writing surface is all bubbled up due to my penny-melting experiments as a kid, and it weighs about 90 pounds. Because of its weight and condition (and lack of room in the moving truck) I decided not to take it with me when I moved to Dallas. It still lives at my parents' house.
Desk #2. This desk was a loan from Rusty's parents when I first moved here (its existence had been another part of the decision to leave the other one: "Dude, my parents have a desk you can use if you decide to leave that one.") It was a tiny little computer stand desk which did the job, but had nearly no writing space at all, and the monitor area was on the opposite end of the desk from the keyboard drawer (as in, keyboard drawer facing forward on the left side, and monitor facing whatever direction you want it, but on the right side) — it was a bad case of scoliosis just waiting to happen, but it worked at the time.
Desk #3 was my primordial, era of the titans, behemoth L-shaped desk, which I bought just before I moved into my one-bedroom apartment on Walnut Hill. Not having measured things very well, I found that it left room in my bedroom for my bed, and that was about it (I moved my dresser into the closet). After moving into the new place that had more room, though, it became my favorite desk ever. I had plenty of room to spread out, and, being during the most programmer-oriented phase of my career so far, the giant L configuration left me plenty of place for the machines I used for work and play (at one point comprising two PCs, a SPARC, and two laptops). Sure, sure, cast your geek aspersions now — I won't fight you — my hardware arsenal has endured a great reduction in force since then, anyway. At any rate, I was heartbroken when this desk broke as I tried to dismantle it after the apartment fire. A girl I'd met at the time offered to take the pieces off my hands and try to reassemble a working desk out of it, and I agreed.
Desk #4. This was the cool, hip, high-in-the-sky-and-small-floor-footprint desk I bought specifically to match the space and aesthetic needs of my loft apartment. When I bought it, I thought it was the coolest desk ever. After about a year of claustrophobic misery trying to get any work done at it, though, I decided I needed something where (in addition to not making me feel like everything was falling on my head, of course) 1) the desk didn't curve outward, pushing me away from the screen, etc, and 2) it let my PC (and my feet, for that matter) sit on the floor proper instead of up on a shelf, which curved under the weight.
Desk #5 was the aethetically pleasing black tubular steel corner desk, with shelves both above and below the surface. By most accounts, it seemed like the perfect desk when I ordered it. Tons of space to put things, the computer could sit on the floor, and non of the apparent bad ergonomics of the old one. When dismantling desk #4, however, I realized that without the hutch on the top of it, it made a very pleasant writing desk, and I ended up (after its decapitation) doing more work on it with my laptop than on desk #5 with my PC. Problems I realized with desk #5 were that the edges of the work surface are sharp as hell (really tiresome on one's wrists and forearms), and the whole thing was like a giant tuning fork when something started to vibrate it. For example, if I printed something on my printer, the whole desk would rock back and forth with the printer motion. Not very conducive to work, at least until you get your sea legs. Not to mention, the hutch on this desk ended up being almost claustrophobic as the previous — when I moved most recently I took the top off (having learned from the desk #4 experience), but it still only helped a little, and didn't do anything for the bleeding wrist phenomenon.
Compiling all my years of experience, I put together a list of must-have qualifications in a good desk:
Should be L-shaped, rather than a standard straight desk or a simple corner desk.
Must be substantial — no rocking around, wobbling, creaking, shifting, swaying, or bending in places it shouldn't.
Must not have a shelf along the floor, and should allow plenty of leg and foot room.
No hutch which overhangs the monitor. A low shelf for the monitor to sit on, or off to the side, would be okay.
Should have rounded or at least smooth edges along the front of the work surface.
Recessed shelves underneath the desk surface would be a bonus, but not required.
So, after much self-belittling for my own fastidiousness when it comes to desk choices, here I sit at desk #6. It's a slightly smaller incarnation of desk #3. The recessed shelf requirement is the only one it doesn't meet (and that one was optional anyway) but I've sort of created my own under there with a wooden shelf thing I had lying around. There's also this cool three-section monitor stand thing under which to hide all my desktop clutter. Most importantly, the desk angles around me in this spacious L-shaped expanse, with plenty of room for a laptop or two, some papers, and any other junk I feel like leaving on it. And, most of all, it just feels right. Yay. Finally. Free at last, free at last.
At any rate, now that I've finally re-attained that all-too-essential "have an adequate working desk" level of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, I can now move onto bigger and better things, like my quest for self-actualization or something.
That's my confession of the day. Yes, children have starved to death in Rwanda while I consumed one desk after another, but, considering I spend nearly half of my waking time at home at or near it, I figure it's an important bit of furniture, right? (Also, don't get me wrong — I think the most I've spent for any of these is around $200, with the new one today being a bargain at $99, so not that many children starved on my account).
Now to figure out what to do with this old one. . . .
Today I bought the third computer desk in 2 years. I'm happy, though.
Here's my long and sordid computer desk history, and, before you throw stones, hey, I admitted I was crazy.
Desk #1. This is the childhood desk I'd had ever since I can remember. It's bulky and mahogany colored, and the drawer runners are all stuck, and the writing surface is all bubbled up due to my penny-melting experiments as a kid, and it weighs about 90 pounds. Because of its weight and condition (and lack of room in the moving truck) I decided not to take it with me when I moved to Dallas. It still lives at my parents' house.
Desk #2. This desk was a loan from Rusty's parents when I first moved here (its existence had been another part of the decision to leave the other one: "Dude, my parents have a desk you can use if you decide to leave that one.") It was a tiny little computer stand desk which did the job, but had nearly no writing space at all, and the monitor area was on the opposite end of the desk from the keyboard drawer (as in, keyboard drawer facing forward on the left side, and monitor facing whatever direction you want it, but on the right side) — it was a bad case of scoliosis just waiting to happen, but it worked at the time.
Desk #3 was my primordial, era of the titans, behemoth L-shaped desk, which I bought just before I moved into my one-bedroom apartment on Walnut Hill. Not having measured things very well, I found that it left room in my bedroom for my bed, and that was about it (I moved my dresser into the closet). After moving into the new place that had more room, though, it became my favorite desk ever. I had plenty of room to spread out, and, being during the most programmer-oriented phase of my career so far, the giant L configuration left me plenty of place for the machines I used for work and play (at one point comprising two PCs, a SPARC, and two laptops). Sure, sure, cast your geek aspersions now — I won't fight you — my hardware arsenal has endured a great reduction in force since then, anyway. At any rate, I was heartbroken when this desk broke as I tried to dismantle it after the apartment fire. A girl I'd met at the time offered to take the pieces off my hands and try to reassemble a working desk out of it, and I agreed.
Desk #4. This was the cool, hip, high-in-the-sky-and-small-floor-footprint desk I bought specifically to match the space and aesthetic needs of my loft apartment. When I bought it, I thought it was the coolest desk ever. After about a year of claustrophobic misery trying to get any work done at it, though, I decided I needed something where (in addition to not making me feel like everything was falling on my head, of course) 1) the desk didn't curve outward, pushing me away from the screen, etc, and 2) it let my PC (and my feet, for that matter) sit on the floor proper instead of up on a shelf, which curved under the weight.
Desk #5 was the aethetically pleasing black tubular steel corner desk, with shelves both above and below the surface. By most accounts, it seemed like the perfect desk when I ordered it. Tons of space to put things, the computer could sit on the floor, and non of the apparent bad ergonomics of the old one. When dismantling desk #4, however, I realized that without the hutch on the top of it, it made a very pleasant writing desk, and I ended up (after its decapitation) doing more work on it with my laptop than on desk #5 with my PC. Problems I realized with desk #5 were that the edges of the work surface are sharp as hell (really tiresome on one's wrists and forearms), and the whole thing was like a giant tuning fork when something started to vibrate it. For example, if I printed something on my printer, the whole desk would rock back and forth with the printer motion. Not very conducive to work, at least until you get your sea legs. Not to mention, the hutch on this desk ended up being almost claustrophobic as the previous — when I moved most recently I took the top off (having learned from the desk #4 experience), but it still only helped a little, and didn't do anything for the bleeding wrist phenomenon.
Compiling all my years of experience, I put together a list of must-have qualifications in a good desk:
So, after much self-belittling for my own fastidiousness when it comes to desk choices, here I sit at desk #6. It's a slightly smaller incarnation of desk #3. The recessed shelf requirement is the only one it doesn't meet (and that one was optional anyway) but I've sort of created my own under there with a wooden shelf thing I had lying around. There's also this cool three-section monitor stand thing under which to hide all my desktop clutter. Most importantly, the desk angles around me in this spacious L-shaped expanse, with plenty of room for a laptop or two, some papers, and any other junk I feel like leaving on it. And, most of all, it just feels right. Yay. Finally. Free at last, free at last.
At any rate, now that I've finally re-attained that all-too-essential "have an adequate working desk" level of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, I can now move onto bigger and better things, like my quest for self-actualization or something.
That's my confession of the day. Yes, children have starved to death in Rwanda while I consumed one desk after another, but, considering I spend nearly half of my waking time at home at or near it, I figure it's an important bit of furniture, right? (Also, don't get me wrong — I think the most I've spent for any of these is around $200, with the new one today being a bargain at $99, so not that many children starved on my account).
Now to figure out what to do with this old one. . . .