Big things have small beginnings, right? Well, it's true. I've worked on getting my studio in order for a year with an S after the R. Repaired bodies take longer to get a job done. Throw in a distracted mind and journey's end stretches beyond imagining.
Eureka! There's the top of my drawing table! It's tilted at just the right angle for things to slide off. That'll change in due time. I am excited to have gotten so much done in January. My right side--from scalp to sole--aches like I've pulled weeds all day. I am sore. Scoliosis don't play. It's a good soreness though--the kind you have at the end of a good day of honest labor.
I helped move that heavy rack from the pantry, up seventeen steps, around the stairwell, and parked it in the hall where it sat for two days. It took me that long to recover and reconnoiter. JC wanted to do things his way, which might have been easier--he is an engineer after all, but this was woman's work. I only needed him to help lift. Mind you, he resisted every step of the way, insisted it wouldn't fit through the door, said it wouldn't fit the designated space, told me I was going to hurt myself, and honestly believed I'd blocked myself into a too small space like an inexperienced painter would be expected to paint herself into a corner in a Laurel and Hardy skit. Ahem.
I lifted that first iMac up on my own-some. I needed help with the second, and asked. My mister is over six feet tall so why should I stress, huh? I moved that heavy Epson printer. Okay, I moved the three Epson printers and the scanner. But before all that, I lifted the glass L from the Sharper Image desk I assembled some years ago. Did that all on my own-some too. But this body is less toned, less agile, and it feels more fragile with the manmade hardware inside. Nothing broke though. It just goes to show that I am woman. I told JC, "I can do this. Women push babies into the world. Surely I can push this unit upstairs and into place." *grin* And I did.
Soon enough there'll be room to write. There's space for stationery, inks, pens and accessories, papers, ephemera, mail art and more. There'll be room to make proper books, repair and bind, draw and paint, time to do whatever I want. The way I used to. The paper trimmer's home is atop a butcher block table with wheels. It's so easy. All the fine papers and ink are housed in the map chest of drawers. Fine tuning comes later. Books need shelving. Archived mail needs storing. A body must recover first, and that starts with a hot bath, which is where I'm headed.
Tip: Never get rid of you desk chair before you find a replacement.