I used to have an office. I had to give it up in order to house a child, so I guess it went to a good cause. I kept a desk in our living room for the past year and it caused a fair amount of design dithering, shifting art, moving furniture, hand wringing, hemming and hawing. It finally occurred to me what I was missing was having my own room, not a bedroom, I like to share that, but a Don Draper style office to retreat to (minus the creepy locked drawer).
So, I took over our downstairs mudroom. I come down here every night for a little while to write, work, catch up. I have a place for my tear sheets and sharp scissors and most importantly, my prized glass desk lamp that had to be sequestered when that kid who stole my office started walking. I make do.