…like, my home office, which I am able to do because I know have wireless internet. Hallelujah! Praise Sean (the very kind friend who set it up)!
The only phone jack in our new place is in the bedroom, and trying to write in a messy, unmade bed is like trying to write a memoir when your entire body except for your left eyelid is paralyzed.
Okay, well, not exactly.
And I know I could just have made the bed.But do not underestimate the sense of peace and moved-in-ness that comes from finally making use of the great little nook of desk and bookshelves and vinyl beanbag turtle that you set up weeks ago but had so far used mostly as a time-out space for fighting cats. It is really, really good to know that you did not talk your girlfriend into renting a two-bedroom for nothing, that you’re not some ungrateful anti-Woolf who gets a room of her own and then ignores it.