I’m not completely at peace in my new home office, sitting on the edge of the futon, reaching to peck the keys. But at least here, I have a little space to myself. The pastel art walls might become soothing, and the seascape up on the wall may comfort me as well. The restless child, however, might have trouble adjusting to the blue glow in the corner, and some of this stuff just has to go into storage:
• The heirloom cradle, unused and outgrown.
• The giant wagon, so nice for a picnic at the park, so large and in the way for those cozy winter nights!
• The winter clothes, or summer clothes, or whatever clothes do not fit right now.
But not this bookshelf, which doubles as my desk, and not the curtains, which (in my humble opinion) make a house look more like a home and less like a rental.
I will probably take the trash out more often, and get to the girly pile of clothes when they smell. It will work.
I can tutor and type and create custom curriculum. I can virtually assist people and work on the webpage I am designing for a friend.
But this futon sitting thing—I’m not sure about that. My back is aching just from this little blog post. Oh well. For every problem, there is a solution.