storage, and facing facts

[ironymaiden]

like the Philadelphia mass turbulence of 1947
Originally uploaded by green eyed so and so.

Billy the bookcase says hello
Originally uploaded by green eyed so and so.

in each of our dwellings, we have had a room designated as C's office space, that room with a door that closes that every writer is supposed to have or they will die or explode or something. this room has always turned into a continuous pile of paper, books, and boxes so unpleasant that C would cease to work there. (he does all of his writing on his laptop in his favorite chair by the window.) meanwhile, the pile of stuff would mount up, things that mattered to one or the other of us would get lost or broken, C would tell me i couldn't touch the piles and promise to take care of it. then he would, say, move his model painting onto the dining room table because there was no space on his work table, and wonder why i was upset.
but we have problem solving skills.
since C won't work in the room, there's no reason for it to be his office. so we busted our asses this weekend to make it a happier place, focused on books and hobby storage. we added three bookcases to the house, which have eliminated the piles of books everywhere and opened up some shelves near the big kids' table to store C's minis and my overflow quilting stuff. i'm willing to share table time in return for getting the office thorn out of my paw.
before bed last night, C was sitting at my computer playing Bejeweled (i'd think it was funny if he wasn't so damn good at it) and i was curled up in the sumo, chatting as he went. the best/worst part of the conversation was when he said that he felt like he would like to spend more time in this room now. it's okay. it feels like a place to be, rather than the extra-wide crap-filled hallway to the bathroom.

today i'm home, cracked out on migraine meds, but i'm happy.