Moving Day

So I'm getting thrown out of my office this weekend.

Mr MM's own office gets too hot, with all his monitors and boxes and whatnot. It is a very small room and it does get pretty miserable in there. I don't begrudge him that.

My office, on the other hand, is in the nice, cool, albeit dank and somewhat animal-smelling basement (previous owners had at least a dog, but I swear to you on a hot day, I'm smelling hamster or guinea pig down here). So that left us with -- Dear God! -- choices. Do we share an office? Do we switch offices? Do we just suffer with the situation as is?

Four things were decided upon by both of us:

1. I type too loudly to be forced upon anyone.
2. Stifling heat trumps occasional Eau de Hamster.
3. Mr MM gets the cooler office because he's the one currently pulling down a paycheck by using any office.
4. Since I type too loudly, I have to find other space in the house because no one wants to hear me type upstairs at 5 in the morning and I don't want to hear anyone bitching at me about it.

So, out I go. I'm not happy about being the one with the slowest computer in the least private amount of space in the house. I would really prefer to have a reasonable spot here to call my own. I think that's the smallest amount of respect my ambitions deserve: not to be tossed around like it's a drugstore puzzle I sometimes work on. It's hard, confronting the fact that no one but me in my own family takes this seriously -- even if I concede that after talking a good game for 15 years, I finally feel ready.

But I do owe everyone involved that confession too. I didn't take it seriously for a long time. I can't expect anyone else to take my work seriously when I don't.

So I'm sucking it up and moving offices. I've worked in the corners of dining rooms and the end of kitchen tables, and a lot of time in offices spent doing everything but my job. I think I can just shut up and write in the basement too. It will mean adjusting my schedule, but oh well. Better to just get on with it and actually get the story cranked out. In the end, it seemed to defeatist to bitch and moan about the Dire Symbolism of the Office Exchange. I suspect it's better to use my time more wisely, and with any luck, I'll get my &*%$ together and actually do it.