After writing the blogpost about my lack of a home office, and reading my friend Lori's comment (in essence, take another look around the house), I was bemoaning my STUFF to my friend Therese. People just can't understand how chaotic my life is. I won't have an office until these three kids grow up and leave home. Will they ever grow up and leave home?
The problem is this: when my kids grow up and leave home if I haven't dealt with my real, internal, Bethany-baggage, I still won't have the psychological room I want to write all I want to write. If I don't deal with that stuff, I'll without a doubt spend several years whining about how needy my adult children are, how they keep moving back home, and (of course) how much I miss them!
Therese came home with me. She had dinner and watched a movie with us (Star Trek, no doubt a forthcoming blogpost topic). The next morning, she got up and said, "Okay, let's tackle your office."
I said, "No! Let's wait until my Christmas break at least!" I said, "What about church this morning? What about Emma's soccer game? I just can't do it right now."
Therese said, "You're a writer. You have to have a home office. Let's do it now."
Two hours later we had thrown away a bunch of Bethany-baggage. We moved shelves and stuffed all my photographs and silly scrapbook supplies into boxes. We moved the big cabinet desk out to make more room (so the space won't be disrupted every time I set a piece of paper on the chair).
After Emma's soccer game I went to the office store and bought a new computer cord and a cool little strip to cover up where it crosses the carpet.
I have an office! Now what's stopping me?
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