Sometimes it’s the little things you miss. Then they’re gone and you think, “Just two more weeks of construction and I’ll have my house back,” except two weeks turn into four. Again. I miss my house and my s favorite writing spot. In the dining room, by the window, with fresh flowers on the windowsill.
Writing from a coffee shop used to be a special “change of scenery” treat. Now I abhor the thought.
Another fight for a seat away from the draft.
Another struggle to find an electrical outlet.
Another cup of coffee.
Another bathroom trip with my stuff left abandoned on a small, hard table. Hurrying, hoping it will still be there when I get back. I can’t take it with me, though, and lose my hard-won spot.
The contractors are bringing more stuff out of the truck as I write these words, crunching over salted snow and ice. Scent of varnish and fresh plywood killed the homey coffee and cinnamon roll odors I worked so hard to establish again. The old kitchen table, sitting by the living room fireplace, is no longer draft-free and noise will soon drive me off to the gym, and then to my husband’s downtown office.
Gym is good.
The downtown office is draft-free and has ample electrical outlets, but have you ever tried to write fiction with your husband doing his law stuff right behind you? His company is a lot of fun – perhaps too much. He’s distracting. He cracks jokes, and he takes me out to lunch.
Wait… I think I just described an ideal working situation. Skilled guys are doing work at our house so it’s updated and awesome. I go to the gym every day (today is a bike-and-swim day, since yesterday was a run-and-karate day and the day before was a horse-and-swordclass day, and my knee can use a break.) I get taken out to lunch.
All I really need is a wee little flower arrangement right by my laptop.
Not roses, though. Hmmm. Tulips?