Lessons from Rearranging My Workspace (That Apply to Literally Everything Else in Life)
Remember a couple of weeks ago when I told you about how I almost took myself out with a folding table because I thought I could just pivot it 90 degrees without checking if the legs were locked? Yeah. That really happened. It was loud, dramatic, and deeply educational. Who knew moving furniture could double as a crash course in life skills? Apparently, me, now.
Below: everything I learned while praying my monitor and dignity would survive the maneuver. The monitor survived, in case you’re wondering.
1) If the foundation isn’t stable, nothing else will be either
You’d think this was obvious. You would be wrong.
I scooted the table, felt the wobble, and assumed that wobble was “character.” It wasn’t. Ten seconds later the whole thing listed like a confused ship and I discovered, to my horror, that some things are literally held together by hope and duct tape.
Translation: start with the basics. Before you launch a course, quit your job,—or rearrange the office—ask:
Is the structure solid? (finances, agreements, supports)
Are people on the same page? (expectations, boundaries, roles)
Are the tools functional? (website login, payment processor, or yes—table legs)
Tiny checklist you can use right now:
Identify the foundational things in this project (money, time, equipment, trust).
Give each a one-sentence “status” note: stable / needs work / emergency.
Fix one “needs work” item this week. Not all of them. One.
If you skip the foundation, you’ll spend half your time cleaning up avoidable chaos. And I don’t care how much “hustle culture” praises improvisation—there’s no glory in predictable collapse.
2) Your environment shapes your energy (and it’s sneaky)
When my desk faced Bud’s guitars and posters and workout equipment, my brain quietly conspired to be unproductive. But move the desk two feet, face a simpler wall, and suddenly my brain produced eight coherent sentences in a row—an event that deserves a small parade.
We underestimate how much our eyeballs do for our moods. Clutter, loud decor (subjective, of course), or—even worse—someone else’s hobbies staring you in the face? They siphon attention and joy like tiny emotional leeches.
Quick swaps that actually work:
Declutter one 1-foot square of your desk. That’s it. Celebrate.
Create a “focus corner” — one tiny area with things that calm and inspire you. No guitars allowed. Unless that’s your thing, I mean.
Use a cheap lamp to change your light. Lighting changes mood more than a color palette ever will.
Pro tip: If you can’t redesign the whole room (kids, partners, roommates), make a 2-minute visual boundary: a tall plant, a fabric poster, a poor man’s room divider. It fools the brain into “this is my zone.”
3) Small shifts make a staggering difference
I did not need a brand-new "entrepreneurial life plan." I needed to rotate my chair. That’s not an insult to ambition—it’s an argument for trying micro-changes before you commit to grand gestures.
Things to try before you quit or overhaul:
Move your chair 90° for one week. Track how you feel.
Change one habitual task order (emails before creative work, or vice versa) for three days.
Replace one habit that drains you with one that fills you (scroll → 5-minute sketch).
People romanticize big leaps. I progress faster when I turn one tiny dial and see if the machine behaves differently. If it does? Amplify. If it doesn’t? Try a different dial. Less drama, more data.
4) Chaos is a teacher (and a really annoying one)
I did not plan to learn life lessons while wrestling with a printer. But chaos forces pattern recognition in a way quiet success never does. When things go sideways, you notice which systems are missing and which stubborn habits you keep repeating.
Pay attention to the curriculum:
Where did you improvise? (and was that heroic or harmful?)
What did you assume would “just work”? (technology, communication, timing)
What felt like a pattern vs. a one-off catastrophe?
An exercise: after any small meltdown (desk leg, missed deadline, burned toast), write one sentence: “Next time I will…” That tiny habit of documenting is the antidote to repeated fiascos.
5) Boundaries are furniture for your life
If furniture can have legs, your schedule can have them too. Setting a boundary is like screwing a table leg in place: boring, necessary, and deeply stabilizing.
Examples I actually tried (and barely survived to tell the tale):
“No work after 7 PM” — then I broke it for about three nights, but three weeks later<I’m trying again. I’ll keep trying until it sticks.
“Two social media checks per WEEK” — yes, I said week. Don’t fool yourself when you see people post. They’re not always “there.”
“Sunday inbox zero” — unrealistic, but “Sunday minimal” replaced doom-scroll Sundays faster.
Try this: pick one boundary that makes you breathe easier (not one that makes you feel guilty). Enforce it for seven days. Report back to yourself like you’re both an intern and a boss.
6) Your brain will invent reasons to avoid the real change
My brain is a talented liar. When I moved the desk, I found ten other things to do that “needed” attention: alphabetize the thread, color-code the post-its, reorganize the pen drawers. There are multiple. It’s a whole thing. I digress. Procrastination, disguised as productivity, is the oldest trick in the book.
If you find yourself tidying instead of doing the important (boring) thing, ask:
Am I avoiding discomfort? (usually yes)
Is this the smallest reasonable task I can do to move forward? (if no, do the smallest reasonable task)
Can I set a timer and do the unpleasant thing for 15 minutes? (you’ll usually do more)
Battle plan: commit to “the boring 15.” Set a timer. Do the thing. If you’re still miserable after 15, you get to stop. Most of the time you keep going.
7) Community is the second desk leg you didn’t know you needed
When the table almost died, Bud’s face (equal parts “Are you all right?” and “Why are you like this?”) made me laugh through stress. A person who alarms, steadies, and helps you reattach a leg is worth more than a Pinterest-perfect workspace.
Find your people: someone who says “no” when you need it, who laughs when you trip, who tells you to stop doing something dumb. They’re not optional. They’re structural.
How to build that:
Check one friend’s calendar and schedule a 20-minute check-in every other week.
Join one small, niche group where people do the same messy work as you.
Trade favors: I’ll test your product page if you’ll carry my boxes once.
The (Less Fake) Moral
Okay, I was doing the “fake moral” thing for a minute—something pithy, slightly twee, and Instagram-friendly. Now? Here’s the actual moral: do the little structural work before you attempt the grand gestures. Tend to the basics. Honor your eyeballs. Move your chair. Make one tiny change and notice it. If you still nearly crush yourself with a folding table, at least you’ll have a better story—but preferably fewer medical bills.
Tiny Plan: 7-Day Workspace Experiment (Do this, you won’t regret it)
Day 1 — Check the foundation. Tighten (table) / confirm (software) / ask (partner)
Day 2 — Create one visual boundary (plant, poster, fabric)
Day 3 — Move your primary chair 90° for the day
Day 4 — Declutter one 1-foot square of workspace
Day 5 — Enforce one small boundary (30-minute email block)
Day 6 — Do one boring task for 15 minutes (the “boring 15”)
Day 7 — Reflect: what felt different? What can you keep?
Of course, I made a cutesy little reminder guide for you here!
If you try it, tell me what happened. Bonus points if you almost die dramatically and then learn something.
Your Turn
Okay, now it’s your turn. Tell me the dumbest thing you’ve done while trying to “fix” your environment. You already know mine. Well, one of them anyway. Share your wins, your chaos, and the tiny changes that actually made a difference.
Follow along on Instagram, TikTok, and LinkedIn for visuals and bite-sized insights from this piece. And if this resonated, share it with someone else who gets it.
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About the Author
Gal is an autistic artist, late-diagnosed at 49, and the creator of AuRTistic Expressions—a space where neurodivergent truth meets creative survival. Through blog posts, printables, courses, and the “This Might Get Messy” podcast, Gal explores what it means to unmask safely, communicate authentically, and make art that doesn’t ask for permission. Stick around—there’s plenty more where this came from.
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