It All Comes Together

This is my favorite corner of the house. I love the way it looks, love its flow. Upon first glance, you'd never know how much work went into it. It was newly crafted - an addition, so to speak - when we extended the front wall of our house by four feet.

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Time and labor went into this space's foundational construction. Tools and measurement were involved; a discerning eye with vision. Eventually, it took its shape. Then doors and windows, each necessary filler, were added, too.

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The walls were next, and they needed warmth. There were moments of hesitation and doubt, when our chosen hue looked all wrong. But with faith and patience, we plowed ahead. And found the result we'd been hoping for.

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Flooring took outside help. We called on friends and professionals alike; each offered help in some way. They understood our desires, gave advice, sweated alongside us, helped the potential become reality.

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There was finish work, like sanding the rough edges from the ceiling beams, adding a bit of trim to cover those seams.

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It was all coming together. We could see its end.

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And then the real fun began, for me, with the final touches. It was my favorite part. Waiting for the right inspiration, for what pretties should go where. Some is functional, like the bench that both seats a visitor removing shoes, and holds daughters' games and puzzles. Some is aesthetic, with popping colors and subtle beauty. I like the contrast of old with new. I like that many items were repurposed, used in an unintended way. And how there are little pieces that pull it all together.

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It's my favorite corner.

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Kinda reminds me of writing.

Which Is It?

ETA: I blew it. It's Tuesday, and I missed Stuff and Things. First time in months! Too late now, though, so on to today's post...

Does writing beget laziness, or does laziness beget writing?

It was yesterday (see previous post) that, when I was over-extending some under-used muscles and excreting a fair amount of elbow grease, this question came to mind. It was because I couldn't stop the internal whining...

Oh, why is this my job?

Does anyone understand how difficult this is?

I just want to be downstairs with my computer!

And then I thought...

What the heck is wrong with me?

I should be grateful for the chance to do such work. I should be thankful I'm physically capable of putting such effort into a project, and that I'll be able to reap the rewards later. I should welcome the chance to do something different, to make a change. Instead of complain about the energy I have to expend.

Really, I do projects like this so very infrequently. I can't remember the last time I worked so hard (motherhood aside). Am I lazy? Perhaps in some ways.

But writing calls for stillness. For sitting and being sedentary. It's what I'm used to; it's the level of energy I'm comfortable putting out. It's not draining or difficult - in a physical way - to write, other than your average sore tushie or crick in the neck.

So that made me wonder... Have I become lazy and sedentary because I'm drawn to the writer's life... or does the writer's life appeal to me because I'm lazy and sedentary? How do you think it works? Is it different for everyone?

*BIG thanks to my sister-in-law, who spent a good part of the day looking after the kidlets. I so appreciate it, Sara. Singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to entertain the girls is possible from a 16-foot scaffolding... but it gets old... Thanks for playing with the girls while I worked. You rock!