This morning, drinking tea and endeavoring to become conscious while sitting in my writing room, as I do each day, I once more glance around at all the stuff in here. Coming too close to the end of my 7th decade, I again wonder what to do with it all. As T.S. Elliot wrote, I grow old…I grow old…” I do not, as yet, roll my pants legs, but then, my pants are not a fabric that rolls. Rather it stretches. Which is far more comfortable.
But back to “stuff.” As I may have written before, we bought this 1924 two-story house with full attic and basement, 20 years ago, give or take a year. That’s a lot of years to fill to say nothing of a lot of space. We have bookcases in each room, upstairs and down and basement. I also have a plethora of pieces of paper. I guess every writer does. The attic also has a plethora of stuff, including my son’s two large boxes of comic books, each in its plastic cover and filed by date. He’s a teacher. When I asked him why he wanted to teach 7th Grade Math, he said, “Because that’s when you can still save them.” Each late afternoon when he returns home, he grunts a hello, drops his school briefcase by the basement door and goes outside to smoke a cigar. I do not talk to him – or even see him – until dinner. His room is half of the basement (the furnace, washer and dryer fill the other half) and it, too, is filled with bookcases and books.
The folding table with the stacks of file folders and the rolling file with pieces of paper in hanging files seem to be the counters of my life here in this house. Of course, I also have my journals, stacks of them fill several bookcases.
I’m pretty sure I’ve whined about this in the past. I guess the upside is I don’t have to go to the library often to find the book I want.
Words, words, words. My house and my head are filled with words. Husband Cliff teaches philosophy. More words.
I don’t really mind it all, I just wish I could find that piece of paper I happen to be looking for.
Now that Ocean to Desert is published, and I must begin the next of my life in Mexico.
What prompted me this morning to again step into writer overwhelm when I pulled the rolling file cabinet closer to my desk, which sits in front of one of the big upstairs east windows looking out on the street, was so I could look through the files for the pieces related to Mexico. Big sigh.
So, since Cliff is finished teaching online and has gone downstairs to have lunch, I’ll stop my whining and go have lunch too. Maybe when I return, I will feel more delighted to have all this primary material…….