A room of one's own
Well hey there, Livejournal.
After a very long and lethargic holiday season, I've used my new found 2nd-trimester energy to make serious progress towards clearing out the baby's room.
That is to say, the room that was mine when I was a little girl, and then "the princess room" when my nieces were little and had sleepovers at Mommom's, then the room my brother slept in until he died, and then, most recently, my writing office.
I'm not put out, really, at giving the office up. I actually don't use it much for writing, except when I want to put a door between me and the rest of the household. Usually I just use it as a way-station for filing - once or twice a year I bring my laptop, watch netflix, and put stuff away.
It's more a matter of "where the hell are we going to put all this stuff". Much of it is destined for the Godking's "office" - a tiny can-you-even-really-call-it-a-room room, which makes life especially challenging, because the Godking is a gaming-obsessed pack rat. At this moment, his "office" is actually serving as a storage space for the stacks and stacks of games and figures that he has collected since his preteens... with "pathways" demarcated, kind of, between the door, the desk, the closet, and the small but overstuffed bookshelves. SOMEHOW, we're going to have to figure out how to fit my gift-wrapping station, my art supplies, and probably my writing archives in there as well.
The solution will probably involve ebay. And a lubricant of some kind.
The only real drag about the process (besides the headache of problem-solving, the exertion of moving, and the pain-in-the-ass in getting the Godking to finish a project) is that now I have to figure out what to do with all the "ME STUFF" in there. Because while, yes, the rest of the house is pretty much my stuff too (TGK is not much of a decorator, and even if he were, I have veto power), the office is quintessentially me. The way a teenager's bedroom is quintessentially them - everything boiled down to one's essence. The huge map of the world, the art on the walls, the posters and pages torn from magazines tacked up on the doors. The little figures and whatnots lining all the bookshelves. And my writing archives. Giving up the room is like giving up a little of that sanctity.
But. I don't mind, all things considered. Of all the sacrifices I'm prepared to make for this little one, this doesn't even register.
I just... have to figure out where it's all going to GO.
After a very long and lethargic holiday season, I've used my new found 2nd-trimester energy to make serious progress towards clearing out the baby's room.
That is to say, the room that was mine when I was a little girl, and then "the princess room" when my nieces were little and had sleepovers at Mommom's, then the room my brother slept in until he died, and then, most recently, my writing office.
I'm not put out, really, at giving the office up. I actually don't use it much for writing, except when I want to put a door between me and the rest of the household. Usually I just use it as a way-station for filing - once or twice a year I bring my laptop, watch netflix, and put stuff away.
It's more a matter of "where the hell are we going to put all this stuff". Much of it is destined for the Godking's "office" - a tiny can-you-even-really-call-it-a-room room, which makes life especially challenging, because the Godking is a gaming-obsessed pack rat. At this moment, his "office" is actually serving as a storage space for the stacks and stacks of games and figures that he has collected since his preteens... with "pathways" demarcated, kind of, between the door, the desk, the closet, and the small but overstuffed bookshelves. SOMEHOW, we're going to have to figure out how to fit my gift-wrapping station, my art supplies, and probably my writing archives in there as well.
The solution will probably involve ebay. And a lubricant of some kind.
The only real drag about the process (besides the headache of problem-solving, the exertion of moving, and the pain-in-the-ass in getting the Godking to finish a project) is that now I have to figure out what to do with all the "ME STUFF" in there. Because while, yes, the rest of the house is pretty much my stuff too (TGK is not much of a decorator, and even if he were, I have veto power), the office is quintessentially me. The way a teenager's bedroom is quintessentially them - everything boiled down to one's essence. The huge map of the world, the art on the walls, the posters and pages torn from magazines tacked up on the doors. The little figures and whatnots lining all the bookshelves. And my writing archives. Giving up the room is like giving up a little of that sanctity.
But. I don't mind, all things considered. Of all the sacrifices I'm prepared to make for this little one, this doesn't even register.
I just... have to figure out where it's all going to GO.