"Literature is strewn with the wreckage of those who have minded beyond reason the opinion of others.” --Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own
I'm in the process of clearing out my husband's work room, or what it really is the place where we store our junk. It's a small, windowless, somewhat rectangular 8x10 foot space in our basement, sandwiched between the laundry room and the half bath. For the past 8 years I've eyed it as a strange room, useful only as a large closet, but because the previous owner used it as a workroom (did he really cut wood in there...) we also have thought of it as a workroom. Silly, really, since the husband does all his constructing out in the garage because who wants sawdust inside their house? Not me.
|The storage room|
I'm clearing it out because I've decided it is going to be a room of MY own. Our house is small, under 1000 sq feet, and we have 3 daughters. The youngest will be 13 in two weeks which means I will have THREE teenage girls living under one roof this summer. I love them, but I need to get away from them. They follow me everywhere in the house, chirping at me almost constantly, like hungry birds in a nest.
I'm in the middle of a 30 Day Yoga and Meditation Challenge and yesterday, Day 14, I attempted to meditate for 10 minutes. However, three times in three minutes, my 15 year old came clomping up the stairs like a 5000 pound elephant. Not sure how this is possible since the child weighs about 100 pounds...anyway, it was the last straw. I grumbled and ranted at the husband and then I figured out what I would do.
Get my own damn room! Er...a room of my own.
When it's done, I will have a place to paint, sew and read. There will be space for meditation and yoga. Most importantly, it will no longer be the ugly closet full of junk that it was this morning and I will hopefully be able to run away to get refreshed.
Just don't tell my girls where to find me.