Yesterday was spent taking down the Christmas tree. Why is it so much more fun to put the tree up than to take it down?
Of course, we can't just take down the tree, or at least I can't. Taking down the tree spawns something akin to spring cleaning. Walls are washed, floors dusted and mopped, rugs shaken, everything dusted, windexed, and by the time I'm done, the living room looks brand new.
Many of you already know that several months ago
I had to move my office out of the basement. The spiders had taken over and I was in no mood to do battle with them for territory. Even though I hate spiders it is difficult for me to kill them. The worst I can do to them is suck them up with the vacuum or cordon off the area with crime scene tape until my husband comes home.
Furniture rearrangement is always done when husband is not home. Its easier to do it by myself than to discuss with him where things should go. He usually likes things as they are. Translated: he hates change. And I have to admit to getting a chuckle out of his Ohmygodsherearrangedthefurniture look of surprise he gets on his face on these rare instances when I spruce things up a bit.
When I finally surrendered to the spiders that were the size of poodles (okay, maybe not that big but it is spiders we're talking about here), I could not move the massive and beautiful desk Kevin had purchased for me in 2012. It would have to be disassembled and I'm not particularly known for my assembling skills. So disassembly didn't seem like a good option. Instead, I brought everything up but the desk, dug out the card table and made a nice little spot in the bedroom. Small, cozy, but affective.
After a few weeks I realized the card table wasn't cutting it. So I took a quick trip to Target and bought a very pretty writing desk. Just a simple little piece of furniture that I proudly assembled all by myself! It looked very nice in our bedroom but in all honesty it took up more room than I wanted to give and my chair ended up being a robe and pillow catcher at the end of the day. And the desk faced the wall. A pretty wall, but a wall nonetheless.
So after dismantling the tree and scrubbing the living room from top to bottom, I stood and looked around the room. Did I really want to put the living room back exactly as it was before we had put up the tree? I kind of liked where we'd put the furniture and there was a huge, blank canvas staring at me.
I could just picture my pretty desk sitting in front of those big beautiful windows. With a beautiful view of our front yard and our big maple tree, why the creative juices would flow like water over Niagara Falls! I concluded that I could write like Hemingway if my desk were sitting in front of those windows. And there would be a ceiling fan right over my desk to help when the hot flashes hit! How convenient would that be?
That settled it. Besides, I hadn't made a big change to the living room since we built it three years ago. Hadn't even moved so much as a lamp. And it wouldn't take much to bring the pretty desk and my chair out here. And my husband, even though he is on vacation, was out in the garage cutting lumber for the room addition -- same thing as not being home!
|After - My new spot!|
I woke up at 5:30 this morning, anxious to sit in my new spot and get some writing done. Started the coffee, turned on my computer and threw on my robe and sat down.
The view is beautiful. The street light shining down on the fresh snow is quite pretty.
But I discovered two things this morning.
1. We get a lot of traffic down this road, even at this very early hour. One car in particular came to a complete stop out front. Of course, as an author, and one who lives in a very small town, a car can't just stop in front of your house without your imagination running away with you. I found myself taking note of make and model, double checking that the front door was locked, and preparing myself to hit whoever it was over the head with a lamp if necessary. Several moments passed. They. Got. Out. Of. The. Car.
Who in the heck gets out of their car at 5:47 a.m? Panic welled as I saw him approaching our house! I don't know anyone with that kind of car. And anyone who knows us would not be dropping by unannounced at this ungodly hour! You'd be surprised at how many thoughts ran through this brain of mine from the point that the assailant (yes, I started calling him that the moment his door opened!) exited his car and took the ten steps to the newspaper box. Yes, I felt like an idiot when I realized it was the paper delivery person. (And when did they stop being paperboys??)
For a town this small, one would think we'd only see a car every hour or so. I've counted six going by my house as I wrote this paragraph. Six inside of two minutes. Its a side street for heavens sake and its 6:15 a.m.! My plans for writing in the quiet pre-dawn hours are rapidly fading. And anyone who knows me knows that I'm easily distracted. My kids like to come up beside me and shout "Squirrel!" just to see me look for one. Yes, its that bad.
2. I also realized that the heating vent is right in front of the window.
Now, most people might enjoy the warm air hitting their toes on a cold winter morn as they stared out at glistening snow.
I am not one of those people.
I have hot flashes of near epic proportions.
I've been known to throw open the front door and run out onto the front porch during wind chill advisories and blizzards and say "aaaaaahhhhh....heavenly!"
My husband has taken to calling me "Jack Jack". You know, the baby from the movie The Incredibles. The one who spontaneously bursts into flames. (Its a very good thing my husband is handsome, sexy and builds me things or I would probably not find the humor in the moniker he has given me.)
So what was I doing at 6:03 this morning? Taking the vent thingy out of the floor, turning that blasted wheel-a-bobber and closing off that vent as sweat trickled down my back. I kept the cursing to a minimum and did my best not to wake husband and son. I also dug out the desk fan I thought I wouldn't need anymore because of the ceiling fan that now sits over my desk. I'm sure that once spring hits and we've turned on the central air, I'll be crawling back under the desk and opening the vent. Yes, I'd prefer the feel of cold air hitting my feet than the blast furnace heat.
I wonder what my husband would say if I put my desk back in our bedroom?