Satisfying job on an unsatisfying day

See Clifford the leopard in the foreground?

He's keeping watch over my books

The weather gods ae playing tricks on us. They give us a couple of sunny, bright days so that we think fall is here in all its glory—and then they turn the world drizzly and gray. I swear this weekend I looked at the extended forecast and it was for seventies Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. But if today got to 70 it was in some other state. Here, it was drizzly and gray, not really cool but the kind of damp that makes you feel a chill. I had turned the heat off but turned it on again this evening. Rain forecast for the morning—my new winter rye grass will appreciate that.

It was the kind of day that it’s good to have a project or else one (this one anyway) might mope and grouse the day around. Mary Dulle came to help me finish sorting my bookcase. Saying “help me” is a misnomer, because Mary does all the work and I sit and pass judgement on titles like some sort of authority. She can do all the bending, standing, reaching that I can’t, and she graciously includes dusting shelves and tops of books. Today she even asked for a broom and swept up some spider eggs. Above and beyond.

We divided books into those that I want on my shelves, those that can go to the storage locker (extras of books I’ve written and by far the biggest category we had—anybody wants to buy a book just let me know; I can probably open a store), and books that I will give to the library’s used-book store. What I kept on the shelves we roughly organized into books I had written or had chapters, essays, etc., in, books by good friends of mine, and books that I cared about. I was delighted to find some treasures—a few cookbooks that I thought had been lost in the great deluge that ruined most of my cookbooks, a book of William Barney’s poetry—the Fort Worth postman who became a Texas poet laureate, two copies of Bartlett’s Quotations (who needs two?). and other treasures.

One half-shelf holds old books of sentimental value—hymnals from my childhood and  a copy of the songbook that my dad and I used to sing out of on Sunday nights—he’d play the piano and we’d both sing, though neither of us could carry a tune in a bushel basket. There’s a copy of Get Thee Behind Me, a preacher’s kid’s (pk) account of trying to counter sin—a book that made me laugh when I was a kid with a dad who was a pk—and a terribly worn copy of Foster-Harris’ invaluable guide, The Look of the Old West. I used that research tool a lot when I was writing westerns. Lots of treasures.

We were dusty and dirty by the time we went to the Black Rooster for sandwiches. I’m a fan of that bakery, and it puzzles me that some of my friends aren’t. Chicken salad on a croissant—what’s not to like?

But the upshot of the day is that I have neatly arranged bookshelves with some room to display family photos and the like, and an accessible shelf for office supplies. Well, it will be accessible when we get one box and two shopping bags of books to storage. Then even I can get to printer paper and book mailers.

Doing this massive undertaking with Mary made it fun instead of a chore, and she was the one who pointed out it was better to be busy than to mope. There’s nothing like a good neighbor and friend.

My work space

A group called WeWork asked me to post on my blog about my work space and their idea. It’s an innovative thing for writers and other self-employed professionals: group office space at reasonable rates. They offer solitude or companionship, whichever you want, and serve as a member network to help writers connect to others. Depending on what you want, they offer healthcare, travel, gym memberships, web hosting, and accounting services—oh boy, do I need the latter. For the meantime, though, I’m happy in my at-home workspace.

One day my oldest daughter called and said she had remodeled my house. I wanted to say, “Thank you very much but I like it the way it is.” Instead I listened. My office then was in a dark bedroom--windows but no view of the street or people. It was like a little cave. Megan suggested making that room a guest room and moving my office to the awkward little bedroom off the front room, adding French doors.

After extensive construction (which also ended up re-routing the ac/heat ducts, replacing the attic stairway, thoroughly checking out my furnace, and extensive painting), it was done. We moved my long white desk in there, and lined one wall with a free-standing bookcase. A second bookcase fell apart in the move. The room is airy and sunny with windows to the front of the house and the driveway—with the dog’s help I can keep tabs on who goes up and down the driveway.

I love the atmosphere of my office. The books make it cozy and also inspire me to keep at my work. I can look out into the living room and, on cold days, enjoy warmth from the fireplace. Sometimes my daughter entertains at my house instead of hers, and I can visit, enjoy the company, and then retreat to my private place. When my dog was a pup, I kept her in the office with me, doors closed, so I could train her. Now it’s her space, and she curls up in the now-filthy overstuffed chair.

I spend hours every day at my desk, the TV often on but softly, sort of for company. If I’m home alone, I eat my meals at the desk. Late at night, you’ll find me reading or prowling Facebook. But during the day it’s all work. I start the day with email, Facebook, and the morning paper. And then I get down to work on whatever my current project is.

I am fortunate that I live alone and enjoy solitude and the uninterrupted time for work, but many others don’t enjoy the advantages I do. Check out https://www.wework.com/locations and see if there’s a location near you. I am always impressed by entrepreneurship and give these folks a vote for success.

I am now faced with change and a decision—I will be moving to the cottage behind my house, and my youngest daughter and family will move into my house. She wants me to keep my office where it is, but I think I’d feel more at home in the cottage if I had my work space there. I could take my desk, my bookcase, and my TV. And of course the dog. What more does an old lady need? Then again, maybe WeWork is the answer for me.