I’ve been thinking a lot about space lately. Not outer space, the great beyond, final frontier. Just SPACE. Room to do stuff like read and write and stretch and live.

Recently we downsized. It has been quite the adjustment, one that has truly tested the boundaries of my family’s patience. At our old house, I had a desk in a giant finished room in the basement where I could go and write unhindered after the kids went to bed. Or even before they went to bed. For some reason, they just didn’t come down there that often when I was down there writing.

Now at the new house, the basement is full of boxes whose contents have yet to find a place upstairs. There just isn’t enough space for everything. It’s somehow easier to just leave all those boxes unpacked than to acknowledge that we have too much shit. I don’t know, maybe that isn’t it. Maybe we’re just lazy.

Anyway, the bottom line is this: at the moment, our children are supposed to occupy an entire second floor. Their rooms are a reworking of an attic apartment that has been turned into their rooms. There is still a full bath and working kitchen up there. They have a fridge, a TV. A microwave, an xBox. Awesome you say? You’d think so. You really would. But will they stay up there? No. They insist on taking over our TV every day and crying about having to sleep in their comfy beds, away from us.

That was really sweet for about the first two days. Now I just really need them to go to bed and quit making my life an unpredictable hell full of sleepless nights. Like, they come all the way down to OUR bathroom in the middle of the night instead of just peeing in their own, three-ten feet away from their respective beds. It makes no sense. Momma’s about to lose her mind.

So today I was mulling over my writing routine and my writing space (that is non-existent). And I decided, you know what? There’s a perfectly good desk in my daughter’s barely-used room. There are chairs in my kids’ rarely occupied TV room. There’s even a fridge I can stick my wine in. A microwave I can pop popcorn in. A TV I can put reruns of That 70’s Show on so I have background noise and no one will bug me because they’re afraid of the wind or a mouse or the boogeyman or whatever.

I hauled my wine, my laptop, my phone, and my cork screw up the stairs. I put on my favorite sit-com. I plugged in my laptop and poured my glass of wine. And you know what? It was the best writing space ever for about two whole minutes. Until both kids, a dog, and a husband came up to join me.





Can we start November over? I wasn’t all the way ready. I’m supposed to have read about forty books by now this year. You know how many I’ve read? Maybe twelve, with four more started and scattered around the house, my car, work.

I’m supposed to have painted at least one new painting. Did I? No.

I’m supposed to be done with a novel and about a third of the way through NaNoWriMo on a new one. For those of you who don’t know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month, which is November. You’re supposed to write 1667 words a day, and have a complete first draft by the end of the month. Today is the eleventh day of the month, and I have 4,343 words completed. I’m no math wiz, but I’m pretty sure that’s less than whatever 11 x 1667 equals.

Now, I have been known to crank out some pretty A+ work in 24 hours time after months of procrastination, like in college when I wrote a thesis in less than two days, but according to some people around me, I’m not 21 anymore. Which is apparently true, and a really big fucking bummer.

Nevertheless, in the past 24 hours my procrastination has included the following:

1 Reading at break-neck speed to try and put a dent in this stack of books next to my bed

2 Becoming a hero to my seven year old by kicking ass at old school Super Mario World 3

3 Washing dishes

4 Washing clothes

5 Finding and pretending to read the book “Organizing from the Inside Out,” which my best friend so helpfully gifted me

6 Planning dinner

7 Singing harmony to every single song Pandora has played, at the top of my lungs

8 Trying to do the math to see how many words I’ll have to write a day to meet the 50,000 word goal, if I don’t write another word until next Friday

9 Writing this blog and wishing someone would bring me some chocolate cupcakes

Might have to get started on that painting next…