For the past few weeks, I’ve been camped out with my MacBook and assorted piles of paper on a stool at my kitchen counter where I relocated from my woman cave. I have an office. I consider myself blessed to have had a room of my own for most of my adult life. It’s where I write and, in other seasons, made quilts and dabbled with watercolour and acrylic paint. It’s where I’m inspired to try new things, the place I communicate from and take care of the administrative tasks that go along with running a household. It’s my sanctuary.
Now, I have a curious puppy. Before I decided to vacate my office, we tried to share the space. I bribed her with treats and encouraged Miss Molly Jean to curl up and nap in the big soft bed we purchased when waiting for her arrival while I worked. Limited success there. She is always happy to curl up in my lap or my arms to catch 40 winks, but working is challenging with a dog in one’s arms. So, she explored. Cords were good things to chew on; the underside of my wing chair was fun to chew apart; carpet corners were the best things of all.
Trying to focus on anything while keeping one eye on what mischief Molly was finding to get into was exercise in futility, so I closed my office door, moved to the kitchen, and got (some) stuff done. But I haven’t written anything for myself in a long time. My desk became the place I’d toss papers and things to be tended to or filed away later. I’ve felt disorganized.
I miss my office and it’s time to reclaim my space. Molly and I have things to work out like what’s acceptable chewing material and what isn’t. She’s getting older now and we’ll get there. This “I’ll chew it if I want to” puppy adolescent stage will pass.
Yesterday, I went in and got things organized and today I’ve spent about four hours on SCN (Story Circle Network) and ICWF (Inscribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship) business. It’s been time well spent. What I really want to do is put some music on, get lost in my thoughts, and write. And I will. Soon.
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