I know you’re thinking this.
But I’m really talking about what started out as an exciting opportunity to have my own space and then quickly turned into one of my top 5 secret shames (this list is ongoing and changes season to season).
The convent had 8 bedrooms (we only needed 5 and when I say “only” I realize that sounds ridiculous), we turned it into 7 (made 2 a master) and there were “extra” so I claimed an office.
It’s in the N/W corner of the “lower level”.
It once was an empty, scary, small room with asbestos tile.
There was an old, 300 pound metal desk in there.
I spray painted it. I had my husband pick it up and move it at least 3 times. For the painting, the carpet install and then back in. That’s love.
I found a dead bat (ok, maybe my spray paint fumes killed him).
From YUCK to a clean, new paint and carpeted space.
Oh the possibilities.
Then we moved in and I put away and organized e’body else’s rooms but mine… mine was a wreck!
Oh what a tranquil space to craft, create, organize.
If only I had 2 days and a p-touch.
Well, I do have a p-touch but 2 days to handle all my fine things with no interruptions – neva gonna happen.
So a little bit each day in between living and with one chunk on a free Saturday (with some interruptions).
That dump turned into this
Lists. African Violets. Lot’s of different pens to choose from. Displays of items, in order. Trays and racks, ready to be filled with papers to file. Trendy sayings and prints. Cookbooks, magazines and a few other reads. Decorating. The knowledge that the only curtains I’ve ever sewn are hanging in there.