Questionable Decisions
I haz them.
I also have - for a while, at least - an office. So this is what happened... we own a little house that isn't the one we're living in. It's a tiny house, frankly not in the best condition (needs modern windows, ceilings, um, other things), with a single bedroom and while it was lovely in the 'honeymoon' period of our life paired with living like poor college students (even if he wasn't the last part of that), once we hit the parental stage it was impossible. When we moved into the rental house, the First Reader offered the house-space to a person who needed a place to stay, so it wouldn't stand empty. It's also not in the best neighborhood, although I'm told the area has improved in the last two years. Long story short, his friend passed away, her son stayed on... until he didn't. But he didn't tell us he'd left, and he abandoned most of his and her stuff in place. Ugh. To say I was irritated is putting it mildly. Time passed. We checked on the house. The promised 'we'll clean up!' didn't happen. This last week I finally had the time, and got into it to clean.
As I said, questionable decisions. We all make them. Some people make the decision to bite the hand that is feeding them, and when offered free rent, steal stored stuff and destroy the house. Oh, sure, it could be worse. But the mouse poo... sigh. (makes note to pick up dust masks) At first my intent was to clean it, hire cleaners to clean it again (I wasn't going to inflict it on anyone when I initially walked through it), and put it on the market as is. It wouldn't bring much, but it didn't cost the First Reader much to begin with and it's actually better than when he got it. It's got plumbing now.
Or... Or we could turn it into my office. Our office. It's only a mile to my day job from the little house, and it's on my way home. The concept of being able to stop in for an hour or two every working day and sit in a quiet minimally furnished place to write is appealing. For the First Reader, who will be telecommuting for a few months from his new job, most days, the concept of having 'office' that isn't in our big master bedroom at home is very attractive. Since we don't want to try and sell the Little House until spring, at the earliest, we'll spend a touch of money (and a lot of time and elbow grease) on making it into officeish. Then, if that actually works for us - and I'll be honest, it sounds great and exciting and powerful, but so does going to the gym, if you follow my thinking - the LLC I plan to incorporate next year will buy it from the First Reader and it will become the official office. Of what, I'm not quite sure yet. Stonycroft Publishing is a name from my past, and linked to a farm that no longer exists. Cedarlili Art doesn't quite incorporate all of what I do. So that is still up in the air. If the office doesn't have the potential to pay for itself, we'll sell it.
I'm excited about this. Writing is, as a friend bracingly reminded me recently, not a sprint for me. I don't have to - and should not - put out four books a year right now. I need to stop beating myself up over that. I need to contemplate what I plan to take a Master's degree in that will advance my career. There are a number of different routes that could take. And for the time, I'm prioritizing the career over the writing. It's what my family needs. But for me, I'm setting up a little refuge away from home in which I might be able to create, and relax, and treat the writing/art/graphic design like a second job rather than a guilty pleasure sneaked in random moments while curled up on my bed with the door closed. Working from home sounds lovely, until you have done it with toddlers underfoot. Then you realize how nice it is to leave, and go to the office, and have quiet.
And in the meantime, I need to buy a mop. Got a bucket, and gloves, and cleaners, and, and... today. Need a good mop.