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I cleaned and organized the one room in the house I feel comfortable in and have staked my claim as my “naked room” – the room I feel perfectly comfortable flaunting the wardrobe God gave me and displaying my true nature and attitude without fear or guilt. Interestingly enough, as nitpicky and OCD as I am about how things need to be, this is the room in the house everyone wants to be in. Despite that it holds nothing of value except to anyone but myself and Patrick … and possibly the girls. It makes me feel good because in the backhanded way I love the affirmation that they are drawn to a room dedicated to me being myself. I’ve never felt so appreciated. 

  It’s an extremely small space but it has everything that I need outside of food and bathing. Even with a considerable portion of the room being taken up by an ancient weight machine that no one is going to use and no one is willing/able to move from the room and was here before we got here, I’ve still managed to make use of as much space and storage and stacking as I can to create a cohesive feeling room that is extremely cluttered but crystal clear of disorganization.   Along one wall I have Patrick’s very treasured bedroom set from childhood. From these three pieces I have managed to create space for casual conversation seating, medicine cabinet, utility drawer, computer area (awaiting computer relocation), junk drawers, the usual office “stuff” drawers, a smoke room, an entertainment stand, quickly concealable green storage, future office storage space and a decorative yet highly meaningful display area. All on one wall! Life has never been so easy.  In a tucked away corner behind the swing of the door I crafted a workable craft station out of a “broken” table missing its top. I have my art supplies all caddied up and corralled together yet easily accessible while I paint at my door easel (paper painter’s taped to the door and walls). The Luvs box is full of stuff I can easily reach into to pull out a new project should the mood strike me. The last corner I am setting up as a jewelry stand for my girls as they’re cruising through that phase. Underneath I have longer term projects and art storage for myself and the girls plus my shoes in plain sight so I’m not running around when I’m hustling around out the door.   We have an air mattress (patriotically decorated so I might dream of better ideas than the kooks running the country currently) strategically placed to allow for extra seating/reclined cuddling while watching the entertainment located on the desk. The weight machine has morphed into an awesome clothes rack/storage space. Patrick piles his clothes on the front part as he wears them. The stair climber part on the back I use as a nice shelf for blankets and pillowcases. Behind the whole contraption I keep big items I have plans for (like the door I’m going to set up as a headboard of sorts so my dearest can stop bashing his forehead into the window ledge every time we go missionary).  Then there’s my closet of dreams. Stuff I desperately want to get to but realistically understand is unlikely to happen and yet I keep it close and highly organized so I can be ready to go at a moments notice. I am prepared for unscheduled me time. I don’t get it often and I can’t ever predict when it will happen, but I will not be caught unaware or unready when it does.   My favorite space in the whole house. My art space. Open and accessible. Freely allows me to work on 6-8 paintings at once without worrying about rearranging or clearing space. Plus, I get to see my progress anytime I sit down, whether it is to work, relax, or to heroes. It is both extremely motivating and warmly welcoming for me.

I’m happy to have created a happy space for myself. I can’t wait to see what else I can do to the other important rooms in the “house of hellish living conditions”.  My manic moniker for the rest of the shithole standard the house currently exists in that I’m determined to solve entirely so I can actually use a whole house and not just one room. I had success with my room. Hoping for more of the same.