Creating the illusion of being an adult

Ok so on the off-chance that my ship has finally come in, and the charming man might actually be invited back here at some point, I engaged one of the exs in converting my house from workshop to adult residence, which was a remarkably big job.

To explain, when you are brought up with oodles of space, and the other inhabitants gradually leave or need less room, you grow into it, to the point that I now fill this house.  Every room has work going on.

The room that I slept in as a small child now has my wool collection, the Toby Jugs for Boris, Wolfish, which is a long but flashy piece of demonstration work for Wolfe, some cameos, and a lifecycle piece in it, all of which are awaiting my attention.

My bedroom, where much of the work actually gets done, especially during the winter, usually has several pieces of almost finished work in it until they go up to the attic, where all the finished work lives unless it is, like Jemima Khan and Bordello Rhetoric, too heavy to carry. Bordello Rhetoric will be going to Boris eventually, so it is in the lounge.

I have two studios, one for dirty processes, one for clean, in use.  The dining room is usually one big medicine cabinet of herbs and superfoods, and the kitchen is a marvel of raw food technology.  I now do a lot of small scale work in the living room adjoining it, as it is the warmest room in the house, and it also serves as a guest room when one of the exs stops by.  They share it with Boris, who needs heat and affection. I like to look after people in my grumpy and offhand way.

The spare bedroom is home to the bank of computers for making computer games and any work from home that I dredge up.

So that leaves one beautiful room that I keep for guests, or the cats, who feel they deserve the best room in the house and probably do.

Iain Duncan Smith is in the tack room, which is the clean process studio, awaiting my close attention when I have finished this post.  That’s where much of the magic happens, and my fairly vast collection of collected materials also live there.  I am pretty high maintenance in terms of space required for working.

So, now that there is a small possibility of inviting a fellow adult who does not already know all this back here, I have to pretend to be human.  This is a lot of exhausting work, and involves a lot of moving stuff.

Did a lot of clearance after mum died, but will be doing some more as time goes on.  There are a couple of items which could go to the scum family, but my mother did not really want them to have them, so I will have to consider this.  I am only slightly more forgiving then she was, and she was quite right. I miss her and her sarcastic yet perfect poops.


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