Deskspace

As I might have mentioned in my last post, I recently got married. For those of you who have never been married before, the process is a lot of hard work so you can entertain your friends and family, and then you get to take a vacation where you sleep alot, because you’re exhausted from the wedding.

To compound the problem, I also had to move. We’re not talking a little across town move, we’re talking several states northwest of my previous location. So the adorable little apartment I’d been occupying for the last two years had to be packed and cleaned to within an inch of it’s rental agreement, and then all my things had to be transported in a very big truck to my husband’s apartment.

Now, my husband, John, has been living alone with his teenage son for a year or so, since his roommate moved out. The thing about apartments kept by a man and a teenage boy: they get dusty and cluttered. I thought I saved things that were completely useless, but John has all kinds of odd little treasures: saved bottlecaps with expired prizes on them, lots of broken electronics which now act as large dust magnets, old concert ticket stubs, and dustbunnies galore. His dustbunnies, actually, are into their third generation, I think.

So for the next few days I’m going to be cleaning and rearranging furniture until we can finally start unpacking the office, which is literally wall to wall boxes at the moment.

I’ve been trying to do some work on the laptop while sitting in a chair, which is horribly awkward on my drawing arm and my tablet slips down into the cushions. I tried switching it to the keyboard rest on John’s desk, which is currently sitting in the middle of the living room, in front of the couch (we can’t move it into the office yet), but the height is all wrong for drawing. I’d sit at the table, but it’s buried beneath lots and lots of stuff. I can’t really even get to my traditional art supplies, beyond my sketchbook and the small box of pencils I brought with me in the car.

Also, I have this nagging feeling that I should be busy cleaning and unpacking ALL THE TIME, which makes it difficult to concentrate on getting a few sketches or drawings in… so I guess I’m just going to have to wait.

On the other hand, it’s nice not to have someone peering over my shoulder, wondering what I’m working on. Nice not to have to be up at a certain time, or rush to get ready for work, or worry about traffic. Or whether my socks match.