It’s been a scintillating weekend of breaking up the girls’ squabbles, food shopping (I had avoided Wal-Mart for an entire month, but I paid for it), and rearranging/tossing. 

Come January 1, the combined forces of Right Angle Consulting, Nap Mats and More and Sassy Onesies will be living happily together in my house.  About 6 months ago, I sat down and actually figured out how much it cost us to have office space between rent, phone, internet, and general expenses.  It turned out to be a large chunk of change, one that would make a serious dent in the amount of debt we still carry from the start up days. 

It’s weird though.  I’ve always taken great pride in explaining very fervently, “Oh no, I don’t work out of my house. We have OFFICE space.”  As if that sentence makes us more legitimate (I still think it does).  I like the physical separation of my private life versus my work one, although my Crackberry is always with me and the separation is really just a facade.  I have always liked “going” somewhere to work. When I first started Right Angle, I worked from home.  Many times I’d find myself doing laundry or watching reruns of ER instead of billing.  I’m still a little afraid of my never-ending to do list around the house, but then I remember the large amount of money being saved and I tell myself to suck it up.  Lots of successful people work from home and it doesn’t mean they are big losers.

These changes have been good in one sense - I spent some time yesterday slogging through the office in our house rearranging and throwing out stuff.  Why have I been holding on to Paul’s thesis drawings from RISD?  Why do I even have them?  And how many broken picture frames does one need?  How many gift bags must one keep?  And am I ever going to play Quake again?  No.  Upstairs, on the third floor, I rearranged both closets to make room for inventory.  I was only sidetracked momentarily when I came across the box with my wedding dress in it.  During one of the moves, the box had come open, so I pulled the dress out.  The waist is impossibly small.  I can’t believe I ever fit in that thing.  Mike kindly reminded me, “Well, you did starve for 6 months to get into it.”  And that was before I pushed two little nuggets out into the world, forever changing the shape of my hips and enlarging my feet a half size. 

Today I’ll finish up the third floor and slowly start bringing things over from the office.  Until I finish up the editorial calendar project, I need to work out of the space, but emotionally I’m already preparing.  Our desks were sold, our files have been consolidated down to two boxes, and there isn’t a whole lot left that we don’t need.  And the best part?  I won’t have to share a bathroom with someone in the building who poops about 6 times a day and smells up the hallway to the office.  Bonus!