Virginia Woolf once wrote, “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.”
Well, now I have one less excuse to write my Great American Novel. Here is my room:
This is a short list of things that will not be allowed in my room:
- Sticky fingers
- Nick Jr
- dirty dishes
- any of those TV shows with Hitler or aliens or Hitler’s Aliens
- Glitter (with exceptions made on a case by case basis for drag queens)
- Glitter glue
Any stains on the carpet will be made by ME. Any books left lying around will be left lying by ME. If the window is left open, it was left open by ME. The only person flopped out on the couch in front of an open window with a book…shall be ME. I will NEVER walk into the room and find anyone else already in there because no one is allowed in this room except by express invitation from ME. Seriously, I am going to put a sign on the door like a teenage girl.
A short list of things that will be allowed in my room:
- lolling about
- mouth breathing
This morning, I snuck down there for five minutes to sit in Grandmama’s chair and look outside in peace. Out one window, I could see three fat birds waiting in the sourwood tree for their turn at the feeder and the moon hanging white against the morning sky. It was quiet enough in my room to hear the moon.
Once I get a couple more bookcases in there, I will officially have more bookshelves than books for the first time in my adult life. I hesitated to put a TV in there–it’s a sanctuary, after all–then I thought about being able to watch a movie with cussing and/or kissing whenever I wanted to. I’ve got a table that will be my writing desk and a futon for flopping. An old traveling trunk that Richard found in a dumpster for my coffee table. His grandmother’s floor lamp from the 1930’s to read by. A painting of a mother and child that G gave me a few years ago.
That shelf? That shelf is high enough that I can put precious things OUT OF REACH. There’s the print of a sleeping puppy’s belly that I bought in an antique shop in Bath, England. Tiny dachshunds I picked up in a model train store in Aachen, Germany or some at the Lakewood Flea Market. Copies of Vermeer paintings I brought back from Amsterdam. And a sampler I found in my Aunt Mary Fuller’s things after she died. She was Grandmama Eunice’s younger sister and a real sweet lady. It reads, “Give to the world the best you have and the best will come back to you.”
Amen to that. Now get out of my room.