I’m a reader. I’m also a writer, but I started down that road because there were stories I wanted to tell that no one had written yet. Given me free time, a comfy chair and something that grips my attention, be the format paper or digital, and I’m happy as a clam. In fact, one of the reasons I’m so eager to get the boxes out of the living room is because we’re creating a reading nook as part of the setup. There’s a room divider that we have to do something with (it belongs to my father-in-law and we cannot get rid of it, nor do we want it where it previously sat) and my husband came up with the idea of using it in the living room to create this nook. It also serves the purpose of making a large space seem not so large while still allowing for plenty of traffic flow if we have a party.
I know I’m going to be spending a lot of time there; we may have seriously downsized our book collection in the move (something I do not want to go through again, thank you very much), but there is still enough reading material in the house to keep us for the next few years — and I’m determined to make a dent on my TBR pile because the ones I kept were the ones I really wanted to read.
At the same time, I’m reminded that there are moments I could cheerfully strangle my favorite authors because I’ve stayed up too late because I just couldn’t put the book down. This happened to me just a couple of weeks ago; I finally read the first book in the Honor Harrington series, On Basilisk Station and found myself still awake after 1 AM because I had to finish the final chapters while having my heart ripped apart because characters I’d grown quite fond of were dying in the final confrontation. And I had to go to work in the morning.
It was a marvelous book, but I also felt I needed to take a break because both friends and my husband warned me David Weber would do the same thing to me again. And, besides, I needed to catch up on that sleep. But I couldn’t stay away for long and Honor of the Queen is now on my Kindle App. I just need to make certain that I I get down to 20% of the book left, I need to not read it when I know I have to go to bed in an hour because I am, unfortunately, no longer twenty and can’t get by on minimal sleep. Still, there is the possibility that I’ll get sucked in and stay up late because I can’t put it down.
So, what about you? Where’s your favorite place to read and who’s kept you up at night lately?
Unpacking continues apace as well. I now have most of my cookbooks unpacked and shelved — though there are a few more packed in one box or another, I believe. But I also managed to get my yarn stash put away into its new home. It was also a chance to do a full inventory, make certain none of the yarn had been attacked by moths (the dread of anyone who works with fiber) and take pictures to post on revelry. Besides, because we need to keep expenses down for a while, I’m on a bit of yarn diet. This is why you buy yarn when you can; so it’s there in those times when you can’t. Besides, if yarn has aged in the stash somewhat, it’s almost like shopping when you find hold it in your hands again.One of my plans this year — before the moving insanity started — had been to have a dedicated space to store my yarn in. The move gave me that chance. One of the Expedits purchased at IKEA is dedicated to the stash, all now cataloged and photographed. Yarn occupies six cubbies while knitting books and patterns take up the remaining two. Finished objects and works in progress are stored elsewhere.
My husband looked at all this and asked, “So, exactly how much yarn do you have?”
“A little over one hundred and fifty colorways in various brands.”
“So, just over a hundred and fifty skeins, right?”
“Um, no. Some of the colorways have multiple skeins — but I’m pretty sure I have less than two hundred skeins.”
His eyes crossed at that point and I didn’t think it was a good idea to point out that, according to some of the profiles on Ravelry, I have a fairly small stash.
If you have yarn, do you have a specific place where your stash lives — are does it simply infest any odd corner of the house you have available for storage? If you don’t knit or crochet, what do you collect and where do you keep it?
- Moving Day: “Oh, my God! Did we get everything? Are all the boxes going in the right place? I must start unpacking noooooowwwwww!”
- Day One through whenever you have to go back to the office: Unpack, go buy things you realize you need, unpack, collapse, unpack, go buy more things you need, unpack, argue with spouse about the upcoming trip to Ikea, unpack, collapse, unpack, realize you do need to eat somewhere in there, wash, rinse, repeat.
- First Week: Go to work, run errands after work because somehow household basics have disappeared, unpack and hook up technology.
- The Trip to IKEA (Other big box stores selling flat-pack furniture are available): Realize that what seemed just a few pieces are actually mounds of boxes that weigh about 80 pounds apiece. Give up any idea of carrying them home in the car and pay to have them delivered. Realize shopping trip has taken most of the day.
- Second through Fourth Week: Start building furniture when you can. Unpacking begins to slow down because hauling furniture pieces out of boxes and putting it together is tiring. Besides, you need the furniture put together to put it on.
- Fifth through Seven Week: You’ve got a few areas put together, the computer is up and accessible (even if there are still boxes in the corner of the office), the breakfast nook with your new table is absolutely lovely (even if the bookcases are empty because you haven’t found the boxes with your cookbooks), the bedroom feels reasonable comfortable (shove unpacked boxes into the second closet) and you start to settle in. You watch television instead of unpacking, deciding to leave that mostly for the weekends. You buy something you know you have, but you can’t find it and it’s just easier.
- Eighth Week: You realize the cats have decided the largest clump of boxes are their new cat tree. You attempt to unpack, but put it off.
- Ninth Week: Discover you need something you know you packed but you can’t find. Tear half a dozen boxes apart looking for it. Find it, and put one or two other items away. Stub your toe the next morning because things aren’t where you were used to having them. Realize you have actually gotten comfortable having the boxes around. Have a glass of wine to ease the shock.
That’s where I am now. We’ve been in the new place for two and a half months and it’s surprisingly easy to just settle into a life where the spots you use the most are comfortable and everything else looks like a warehouse. That needs to start changing, so this weekend is going to be devoted entirely to unpacking. Well, except for tomorrow morning, because I’ve got a workshop to attend — and some errands to run after that. And, Sunday, well, it’s a big day because we’re doing Blessing of the Animals at church and…
Um, send good thoughts. This is going to be a little harder than I thought.