Professional Bedrooms

Ogged linked to this New York Times article about the unusual living arrangements of the Angels' Reggie Willits:

I initially defended Willits' decision to transform his bedroom into a batting cage on the grounds that it allows him to spend more time with his spouse than the average professional athlete.  When the thread turned to divorce rates in academia, I discovered the actual reason for my defense. 

Here's my desk:

Here's the bookshelf to my left:

There's another bookshelf behind me, still another to my right.  Yet were I to turn around, like as not I'd see something like this:

Because my office is conveniently located in my bedroom.  The Willits' arrangement seems natural because professional athletes share academics' engulfing commitment to their trade.  A batting cage in the bedroom is no different than an office, inasmuch as both reflect how all-consuming both careers are.  That said, in a perfect world, I'd have both a batting cage and an office in my bedroom, what with the former being my preferred means of relieving the stress produced in the latter.

Comments

[The Constructivist]

If only that were modified into a golf net and putting area, you'd have my dream office....

[Sisyphus]

Mmmm, look, bookshelves! Delicious.

What's wrong with having, you know, separate rooms for separate stuff? At least you could have the batting cage/office/putting green out in the living room, leaving the bedroom free for its true purpose:

watching Tivo'd episodes of The Wire.

[dave heasman]

"What's wrong with having, you know, separate rooms for separate stuff?"

Er, having to pay for them?

[Adam Roberts]

You own the Chicago Manual of Style in hardback? And you keep it hard by your computer? Hummmm, hooom.

Actually, that could be a new tag: 'which book is nearest, as the crow flies (or flying bookworm moves) to your computer right now?' In my case it's an old paperback copy of Hobson-Jobson that I happen to own, because I've just been writing a story set in India in 1910 and wanted to look a few things up. I couldn't say that Hobson-Jobson is usually the book closest to my computer.

[Adam Roberts]

... though I look again at the photo above and see that it's not the Chicago Manual of Style IN HARDBACK that's nearest to your computer, but that dark hbk at right angles to the machine. I take it to be The MHRA Style Manual IN HARDBACK, or perhaps The MLA Style Manual IN HARDBACK.

[SEK]

Sisyphus, Dave's correct. I'd love to have a separate room for everything but, you know, am still a graduate student. That said, I like having my office in my bedroom. Facilitates napping.

Adam, the book closest to my machine's Kim Stanley Robinson's The Years of Rice and Salt, but that's not because I'm reading it. It's the perfect height to place the book I'm actually working on atop -- you know, so it stays open without breaking its spine. And doesn't everyone have Chicago in hardback?*

*No, probably not. I keep it close because I'm anal retentive about citation formating; and yes, I use Chicago instead of MLA, because I think it's more elegant.

[JPool]

Ahhh/Awww,
You're trying to win Style points with us historians.

[Miriam]

I'm very proud of myself--I just took all of the books out of the bedroom.

Of course, they're just about everywhere else in the house. Still in boxes, unfortunately.

There's a big stack of books next to the desk, but the one closest to the computer is Lectures Delivered Before the Young Men's Christian Association, 1848-49. Thrilling reading, I know.

[Sisyphus]

That said, in a perfect world,

So you'd have a perfect world, and a whole freaking batting cage, and you wouldn't also dream up the money for a mansion, or at least a house with some spare rooms and a bowling alley in the basement?

Interesting.

I'd have a Sherlock-Holmes style Edwardian library. Mmm. Lots of mahogany, club chairs by a fire, maybe even a butler.

Or a moat. Either or.