Inspiration, Muses, and Sabbaticals

There are days when inspiration will not leave you alone. Every other moment is, "OH!" and a poem verse starts forming or a clever opening line to a poem dances suggestively in the mind, luring you into the frenzy of trying to get it all down before it flits away. As much as I love those days, they can be crazy making, because they tend to come at the most inconvenient times. Like during a 12.5 hour shift at work. Or when my phone has died and I forgot my notebook at home and having absolutely nothing with which to write. I try to hold onto as much as I can until I can get a pen and, if all else fails, a napkin, to jot some of it down before it fades away into the ether.

And then, there are those *other* days. You know, the days when you realize that your Muse has taken a sabbatical and neglected to inform you. You plead, you beg, you threaten, and you bribe... but no, She hasn't elected to return just yet. Fortunately, she picked an awesome time to go on sabbatical because I now have strep and, I think, a cold and my brain is pretty fuzzy from the sleep deprivation (between waking up to drink something because my throat is on fire and waking up because I can no longer breathe through my nose because it's so stuffy, there isn't much good sleep happening). For once, this works out in my favor. Hopefully, her return will occur just as my cold is over and she won't leave me in limbo for too long.

Bedroom Suite

So, the product of my teeth-gnashing and hair pulling and lots and lots of cursing entered my house on Wednesday successfully.

My furniture is beautiful. And it fits (mostly) so we measured right.

But it took until Friday evening before it looked like a room again. First, I had to put all my clothes away in the dresser and chest of drawers, plus transfer the items from my old nightstand into my new one. Which took forever, because I have more drawers now (and bigger drawers) so I can store differently and (hopefully) more efficiently. Then, there's the bits and bobs that have to find new homes from where they'd been before. And I'm very picky when it comes to the placement of such things, for reasons that are wholly inexplicable to me. Finally, the pictures and framed prints on the walls, so it looks like someone actually lives in it. And here's the end result:

My beautiful bed

A view of my dresser

Altar, closet, and a bit of the footboard

Okay, so you can't see the footboard well.

I have drawers in my bed!

So, adulthood thus far is turning out to be not so bad. My bed is incredibly comfortable and beautiful and my new favorite place to read (sorry, comfy chair). Now... to see how it does as a writing place... I'll get back to you on that part.

Domestication

Or rather, the uninspiring lack thereof. I am turning 30 later this month and am excited to celebrate another birthday. One step in this shift from post-adolescent/young adult chapter to Adult chapter of my life has been to purchase a new bedroom set.

This is noteworthy for two reasons: 1. I hate shopping. Furniture shopping is, I'm pretty sure, one of the outer rings of Hell. 2. I've had my current bedroom set since I was 2. Yes, for 28 years this set is with me.

Well, was with me. My new furniture came today. I'll share pictures later. But, with the arrival of new furniture comes rearranging, reorganizing, and other new stuff. Like new sheets. Which brings me to the point of this blog.

How the hell do they get the fitted sheets to fold so nicely in the package from which I pulled it to wash it? I would like to know. I would like lessons from these highly skilled sheet folders. Because I just spent the last 15 minutes folding and refolding a fitted sheet only to want to throw it out the window because it's a shapeless pile of sheet with some folds in it, and I would like to move on from this. Shouldn't there be a class where, as an adult, you learn how to properly fold sheets so they can be stored prettily in a new, cedar-lined drawer? How did those sheet packagers learn to do this? I've been folding fitted sheets for, I don't know, 16-18 years and still a puddle of blah with some folds. Bah. I'm just going to put it in the drawer and move on. But if you know of such skilled fitted sheet folders, dear readers, please share. If nothing else, I'll just hire one to come and fold some fitted sheets for me and leave them folded and pretty in the drawer.