I would much rather write in a place where there is sensuality and order...
than in a young man's bedroom where there is chaos, disorder, and stinky gym shoes strewn in every corner. Guitar and amp and heavy metal accoutrements strewn haphazardly around the place...dirty clothes flung onto the floor rather than in the hamper that I put in here for them. No matter how often I remind him that it is also my computer room, he seems to forget the moment I stop nagging.
He works 10 hours a day, four days a week at a cabinet shop. His clothes gather tons of sawdust and wood chips. He leaves the house at 5:00 a.m. and gets home after 5:00 p.m. after a 15 mile drive in lousy traffic. The sawdust covered clothes are tossed onto the floor. You get the picture.
The only time I have to actually write is while he is gone. So you see, I must move my computer out of this mess and put it back where I can spend the evening hours writing. I am not a daytime writer. And I cannot seem to concentrate on sexy romance in the midst of all this chaos and mess.
I helped raise my grandson and promised that he would always have a place here. But a few years ago, he went to stay with his dad, who didn't care one way or the other about the boy until he figured the boy was old enough to go hunting and fishing and shooting cans with his .22. The thought of actually buying groceries instead of that extra case of scotch or that box of cigars never registered with the jerk even after he had his son under his roof.
After four years of haphazard survival, the kid grew a brain and decided maybe Grandma was about the only person who cared enough to give him a safe place to live while he tried to build a life again. So the nice computer room that his bedroom had become is now filled with clutter, dirty clothes, and sawdust. Sigh. And I refuse to pick up after him now that he is an adult. So I will move out of the room...and we can both have our privacy.
Too bad this little old house is so small, and has so little storage space. But I made it work out before, and I can make it work out again. So wish me luck as I make the transition back to my own room. I like having the ability to close my door and write...then fall into bed.