I have painted, hammered, drilled, sorted, sifted, stuffed, trashed, deleted, filed, washed, dusted, sanded, stained, toted, tarried, carried and collapsed. I am tired.

I am finally in my study doing study-type stuff and, no, the room is not done. But it is usable.

The irony of the situation would provoke guffaws if I was not too tired to chortle, much less expend the energy a good guffaw would entail. Since February 10th, more or less, this project has consumed the second floor of my home. At present, the guest bedroom and hallway are still trashed. And will be, I expect, for another week or so. I am flat-out dreading the dragging of the trash to the trash cans.

The study project has been a Someday for years now. A fresh coat of paint was absolutely necessary. The carpet cleaning was equally vital. The de-junking and organizing will keep me from having to search through hundreds of floppy disks trying to find stuff.  The fruition of time arrived and Someday became Today.

As I sit here surveying the room, I’m reminded yet again that I am not cut out for minimalism. I can admire such from afar, but in close proximity we just can’t get along. My goal was to create a clean, well-appointed, organized space free of clutter and junk.

I got rid of (no! really!) a lot of junk, but I must like clutter – especially clutter comprised of books and mementoes. I’ve faced the choice of culling The Stuff or learning to live with it; I’m choosing the latter. So there. By my standards, the room is clean and mostly organized so I did accomplish some of my goals. (And I did trash a huge heap of obsolete computer crap.)

So here I sit. That irony bit? Well, the desktop computer and printer both resolutely refuse to work. So, I had to drag the laptop up here. And you know what else? This time of year, I generally hang out with the keyboard downstairs because it is too hot to think Great Thoughts upstairs much after mid-May. And I couldn’t use this room, the warmest in the house, during the worst of the cold winter because the room was being demolished. Once again, I am out of synch with the universe.

It’s hot up here.

I’m trying to think Great Thoughts and the best I can come up with is the Great Truth that I find just the physical presence of books comforting. I’m a little disappointed that the World’s Ugliest Bookcase is going to have to come back in here (after it gets a coat of paint), but I’d rather suffer ugly furniture that get rid of the books.

It really doesn’t matter that many of them I’ll never read again. Space limitations are creeping up on me and Someday, I’m going to have to get rid of a bunch of them, but that someday is not now. Hallelujah. I have a pretty good idea of the emotional toll and intellectual consternation that will arise as I pick up each book and decide if it goes in a keep pile or a get rid of pile. I’m breaking into hives just thinking about it.

I suspect I’m not the only person that can ruthlessly trash some unused items, but not others. I also suspect that I’m not the only person that finds it easier to trash stuff the older I get. After 30 years of saving shit for Someday, I’m figuring out that Someday isn’t going to happen.

Which brings me around to a quote I ran across the other day – It’s never too late to be who you might have been. –George Eliot.

Ain’t that a dandy?

There are lots of Whos I might have been. Some I’m grateful to have averted. Others might have been exhilarating. But in the end, here I am. A woman who spends an inordinate amount of time with books.

I’m more than a little cranky that the desktop computer won’t work. I had decided it was time for me to become a Who who finally bangs out a novel. I figured my first attempt would be dreck and I’m comfortable with that truth. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to write my Drecky Great American Novel on the laptop.

For decades now, I’ve said that someday I’m going to write a novel. Well. That Someday is here. Or pert near.  As soon as I get the desktop working. . .