Now that all of the rotten children are gone, the wife and I decided that we were going to make good use of the three bedroom house we live in. Her crafting stuff took over the living room and I got the smaller of the three bedrooms for my new office.
Of course now that means I have a whole room to fill up with my junk, rather than that little cubbyhole out in the garage.
It's a work in progress at this point, like any space I tend to inhabit. Things tend to flow around some. I'll mulch them under until I like the flavor of it.
I'm sure by that time it will be close to full. Dragons and swords and ray guns and statues and figurines and tools and parts of this and that. And books. Can't forget those.
But at least I have a place I can call my own. I even have a door I can close for privacy. I haven't, yet. But if I ever need to, it's there.
You ever need to find me. This is where I'm at.
"The Call of the Riled" - By Jerry Zezima Stamford Advocate If you were to call me on my old iPhone to ask when telephone technology reached its peak, I would have told you it was th...
1 week ago