When we first moved into the house, over a year and a half ago now, the office was probably the first room to get set up – technophiles/addicts that we are, my boy and I both needed our computers unboxed and plugged in straight away, since even a few days without email access seemed unfathomable. So we hastily pushed our desks into the small second bedroom that would serve as our joint office space, squeezed in our office furniture and equipment – printers and scanners and fax machines, books and files and papers galore – and promptly made do with the cramped, disorganized, but more-or-less serviceable result.

While the rest of the house benefited from new furniture, paint jobs, careful arrangement and all the rest of the tender, loving care that we, as eager young homeowners, could manage to throw into our weekend decorating sprees, the office remained ignored. On good days I described it as "utilitarian," but most of the time I just called it "the pit." Still, I spent fifty hours a week working in this cramped little room; the last thing I wanted to do once Saturday morning rolled around was to spend even more time in its crowded, chaotic, aesthetically cringe-worthy confines. Even if it meant fixing things up, a project I normally attack with glee.

Then, one Saturday morning, I woke up and had nothing to do. No chairs to reupholster, no furniture to repaint, no landscaping to work on, no thrift shop lamps to repair, no artwork to frame. The kitchen looked lovely, the living room cozy, the bedroom was an inviting retreat. Just one sad room remained undecorated and downright homely, begging for a little attention.

It was time to give the office a makeover. I sat down at my messy desk, looked around, and tried to figure out where to start with the decorating.