Who would’ve thought I could be grateful for broken appliances? The washing machine and dryer broke, and instead of reparing or replacing them, we put them out on the street. This means, of course, that I will be quarter obsessed to feed the machines of the shared apartment complex laundry room, but it also means I have an office! (dancing here)
We’ve cleaned out the space, wiped away the spilled detergent, mopped up the floor, put down the rug, pinned up the art (created and pinned by my incredible child), hung a picture over the washer hookups, and–ta-da!–a space of my own with a door and everything. Will the art and writing be better? Ha. But it will be left out in a space unshared.
Oh, I shall be delirious for days. (more dancing)
Whoa, a door! (I hope one day to fit my room out with bead curtains or something. Just so people can know when not to disturb.)
What does it say about me that I’d rather have the washer and dryer? š
Well, I’d rather have both. But maybe I just want to suffer for my art.
I find having a space of my own is critical to my sense of well-being and creativity. If we have more children, I may have to give it up. š¦
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