I decided to clean things up in my creative space yesterday. Creative space? That sounds odd, but to be honest I’m always at a bit of a loss for what to call it. I could call it my office because there’s a great deal of office-y things that take place there. On the other hand, that’s really only a small fraction of what I do and something I avoid as much as possible.
Studio is far too highbrow, although it is a fairly large space that would probably make a number of folks as jealous as I am of anyone who is both above ground and has a window that lets in natural light. Likewise it’s not my sewing room because I also write here and have at one time or another done Yoga. Whatever you call it, it’s mine and any dissatisfaction I might feel about it remains firmly in the “first world problems” column. It’s still my space and I just needed to find a better way to fit in it.
The previous owners (not sure which ones), in an attempt to make the basement look less dated, decided to paint the floor tile with white paint. I’ll admit to not paying the floor much attention when we were considering buying the house, but even if I had, I doubt I would have ever thought it would end up being a problem.
But, reader, painted floor tile. Can you imagine what it’s like after these years with traffic and desk chairs and life? The
damn paint is coming up in little chips so that I have white paint chips all over the house and in unexpected places. I have to vacuum on a regular basis with my little Dirt Devil just to keep them under control. This also has the added bonus of keeping the roving tumbleweeds of cat hair under control seeing as the cats practically live in the basement when they aren’t napping on my bed or in the front window.
One thing led to another and I was moving furniture. My Dad would laugh here or maybe roll his eyes because this furniture moving of mine is something I am genetically predisposed to doing. I come from a long line of furniture movers and room re-arrangers. I have been known to move furniture before the cable installer or a service person comes over. The husband thinks this is a little silly, but what can I say? I was vacuuming and it needed to be done. You have to follow these urges when they hit because you never know when brilliance will strike. Have you ever seen “Because I Said So” with Diane Keaton? It’s kind of like that.
The bookshelf and the cutting table switched places which means I have more light when I’m cutting and I can keep the cutting table open all the way for more space which should equal less frustration. One thing led to another and I was throwing things out, re-organizing drawers and fabric, and otherwise making a larger mess than I was cleaning. I was covered in fuzz and thread which I didn’t realize until someone else pointed it out.
My desk is clean, my sewing desk has been dusted, a new project is on the design wall, and I found a place to put my two favorite pictures from my wedding which means that even if the husband isn’t home, he’s still here.
Things aren’t quite there yet, but it’s getting closer and I like the energy in the room better now. The best part? It didn’t cost a dime!