Yesterday I was overcome by a feeling of abundance. I went from store to store looking at all the lovely beautiful things. Dream of the time when I would be able to fill one room — just one — with beauty. I dreamed of creating the perfect writing room. I dreamed of filling it with inspiration. Exotic scented candles. Beautiful journals and pens. Inspiring art. Something for all my senses. I held this image in my mind and I rode the wings of my dreams. I didn’t buy anything. I didn’t need to — not yet.
Currently, I work in one half of the living room. I don’t have enough storage space so I have piles of clutter on my large antique oak desk and even — I hate to admit — on the floor surrounding my desk. My desk faces a grove of trees. It’s a beautiful view — when I have it. This week my man was home. He took a week of holidays. He likes to game and so insists that the windows be closed. Now he does have two other gaming computers but…am I complaining? Then there’s little issue of our three cats and their fur which gets on everything. Then they see me writing and think their human is lonely. They almost step on my notebook in their attempt to jump on my lap. I write almost because I do block their progress.
Now do you see why I’m dreaming of a room of my own? A room were I could go to write and get lost in inspiration — as my man games and as my cats scratch frantically on the door.