Virginia Woolf wrote that women fiction writers needed an independent income and a room of their own to work properly and become famous. When Angie got married I converted her bedroom to a room of my own. Still working on that independent income.
I can close up the mess in an instant. The armoire was originally purchased for storage in a condo we rented when we moved to Nashville. The room had no closet and I got tired of seeing Jim’s office stuff scattered all over. By the way, he has a room of his own.
The Tangible Muses
Hawaiian pool boy and Sherlock Holmes. What more could a writer want?
Hemingway had a six-toed cat whose descendants populate Key West. I have three cats with normal feet who will never have descendants. This is Charlie.
Barbara empties my wastebasket and taps my elbow – frequently. The trunk on the left came from Marshall’s. It holds “stuff” I need for quick reference. Otherwise, everything would be on the floor. for Oliver’s amusement. He loves to tear paper.
Oliver, my third cat, prefers sleeping on the bed. He is easily confused with Charlie. Occasionally I have to see them together to tell them apart.
Jim built and hung (hanged?) these boxes. Still have room to add more boxes if necessary. They make organizing books easy.
I’m considering moving out the bed and putting in a large table because I manage to spread papers everywhere. Stay tuned.