There’s something sacred about the moment a package shows up on your doorstep and you know — know — that inside is the one little dopamine jolt that’s going to make everything feel different. Better? Maybe not. But different. And last week, that serotonin bomb came in the form of new keycaps for my mechanical keyboard.
You’d think I had more pressing things to focus on. And I did. Emails. Client messages. Actual paid work. But none of that mattered the moment I opened that clacky little box of resin dreams and felt the primal itch to make my workspace beautiful. Not functional. Not optimized. Beautiful. Aesthetic. ✨Vibey.✨
The keycaps are themed, obviously. Adorable pastel creatures, chonky letters a little 3d crescent moon on the escape key like a secret. Some of the legends are custom. The “Enter” key just has two little creatures. The “Caps Lock” says CAPS and is coated in paw prints. I am absolutely whacky and my keyboard now reflects that.
But here’s the thing: this wasn’t just a vanity purchase. It was a ritual. I popped off each key with the reverence of a witch setting out spell components. I cleaned the board, rearranged a few switch colors, wiped down the desk, moved my planner three inches to the right because it felt better, and then — only then — did I sit down and actually write.
And holy shit. It worked.
The clack of the keys wasn’t just sound. It was feedback. It was rhythm. It was my brain clicking into place with every dramatic press of the spacebar. I sat up straighter. I opened five tabs. I made a list. I responded to things I’d been avoiding for days. Why? Because I’d built a little altar to productivity out of resin, switches, and unhinged aesthetic commitment.
The truth is, I’m not the kind of person who can thrive in beige. My brain doesn’t respond to minimalist neutral tones and perfectly aligned Google calendars. My brain wants color. Texture. Chaos with intention. It wants a desk that looks like it belongs to someone who solves supernatural crimes on weekends and runs a sticker empire the rest of the time. And when I give it that? It listens.
That’s the heart of it. Creating a workspace that’s not just “for work” but for you. Because if your desk feels like an obligation, you’ll avoid it. But if it feels like a little slice of worldbuilding, a nest, a portal, a Pinterest board come to life, suddenly you want to sit down. You want to start. And that’s half the battle.
So yes, I bought keycaps I didn’t need. Yes, I spent a morning rearranging my desk instead of answering emails. But now? My keyboard sounds like a tiny applause track every time I type. My space looks like someone who might, maybe, have their life together.
And even if it's a placebo guess what - it's an effective placebo. And I may or may not have already added two more sets to my cart...
