What’s next for the room?

After the house is moved, I suppose it will be rerented or sold by the city. I can imagine the Writing Room would make a good back office. It’s not interesting but it has all the amenities an aspiring lawyer or CEO could want. It’s a corner office with its own private restroom, and a sink and space for a bar if they want. The house will still be close to the downtown area, close to the action and convenient for chatting up clients. 

Or it would make a nifty library for well read residents. Install shelves along the wall and widen the doorway, and it would function excellently as an extension of the downstairs guest/entertainment area. Install a pocket door so it can be closed off and furnish it with comfortable seating and it would serve as a place for intimate conversations between friends with candle light and wine.

Or perhaps it will become a kitchen again, the entire building remodeled into a duplex. There’s plenty of room for sinks, cupboards and a stove. Deck the windows in gingham and paint the walls a cheery yellow. Lay down a new floor and set up a swinging door between rooms. I can already smell the home cooked meals of roast beef or chicken and potatoes, peas on the side, or the smell of fresh baking bread in preparation for company.

I am …

I am a wonder to myself. I am made up of all the experiences and bad decisions, every failure and a little success and I made it here. I am still learning how to be me, and take care of myself, and I’ve refound some creative outlets. I’ve rebuilt and patched over myself, renovated to please others, made additions somewhat haphazardly and I am beginning to find out that I like the me I started out with. In that way I’m more of a restoration than a renovation now. I still feel like I have a long journey ahead of me but I’ve started. I am a work in progress. I am here.

NYC Midnight

Aug 25th – Aug 27th

Had a run in with the law

Joseph didn’t mean any harm. In fact, that was his first statement.

“I didn’t mean no harm.” he exclaimed while being dragged out of the hole he had made in the ground by a surly cop.

The police man threw Joseph to the ground and grabbed Paul by the strap of his overalls and heaved him out of the hole as well.

The two boys were covered in dirt and were astonished to have been caught but also were passing guilty glances at each other as they knew, this time, they were in trouble.

“What did you do?” Harry the policeman asked, “and what am I going to tell your mother?”