As I write this, my mouse is sitting on the table, far away from me, while my keyboard bounces slightly while I type. It's perched on a lap desk on top of a pillow resting on my leg that is propped up on the ottoman. This is my best and still really awful solution to being able to write in a comfortable manner now that I have the new chair. It's awkward, but I know I'll eventually figure out something that works for me.
I talked to my dad today and again he sounded exhausted. He told me he's basically had to deal with several aspects of my grandfather's death every day since the man's death. "It just keeps coming," he said. "I dread the mail. There's always some new THING I have to handle."
I told him about the chair and about how I'm having to rethink my whole little work area. We get used to life being a certain way, but when things get added or subtracted from it, we suddenly find ourselves making adjustment after adjustment, trying to find some way to reorder things, re-achieve stability, sort out the situation.
I told him not to get discouraged. Adjustment periods are just that . . . periods. It's just this flux time where you have to eek out a new way. It can feel like it takes forever, but eventually, it's over and you find you have found the new way for things to work.
In the meantime, I've had to come back to this post three times because my mouse keeps killing the page.
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