It’s been a rough week in my world. The hardest part has been the loss of my landlord. He lost his battle with cancer this past weekend. Skipper was a truly special man, loved by many. He will be missed. On top of losing a dear friend, I may have to move because of his passing. His widow is not sure at this point if she wants to keep the rentals they own and have been maintaining. I’ve been with them for over 10 years. Moving is going to be a huge, stressful effort for me.
I have insulated my grief by enmeshing myself in the world I’ve created. Writing, I have learned, gives me solace. It gives me peace. It keeps me sane.
Until my granddaughter installed her computer on the desk next to mine. My daughter, for whatever reason possessed her, decided a 32 inch TV would make a great screen monitor for the munchkin. My granddaughter likes to play Minecraft. With the volume turned up.
When I write, I put in my ear buds, happily typing away while plugged into Pandora. When I work on edits and revisions, I need silence. I need to focus. I need to concentrate. It’s not happening.
I’m considering moving my desk and computer into my bedroom. This is going to require some planning. My desk is a beast. It’s a huge corner desk that takes up a lot of room. I wanted it. I got it. It’s almost the size of a Toyota. Outlets are at a minimum in this older house. It’s going to be a nightmare of extension cord hell. I can’t forget the multiple freestanding bookshelves and tons of books in my bedroom either. I’m getting a headache thinking about it.
I never wanted the desk in my bedroom. I didn’t want to separate myself from the coming and goings of my family. I wanted to be accessible if my girls needed me. Things have changed. I need to write. I have work to do on my book. They will know where I am if they want me. I will still be there for them. I’ll just have a bit more quiet to work on my book.
Wish me luck.