One of my favorite topics to read about, or watch on TV, is documentaries about the homes of famous writers.
This gives me strange comfort. I am glad that I will never be famous, for I would hate for my crowded, cluttered apartment to be put on display for all the world to see.
Actually, the apartment is rented, and when I go on to glory, it will be emptied of the clutter, someone else will move in and hopefully that person won't be famous, either. This just isn't a cubby hole to display to an adoring public.
All of my writing is done in my ejector chair, with my feet elevated so that they won't swell and burst open again. My "desk" is a clipboard.