After my oldest son’s sophomore year in college, I stole his bedroom.
I asked him first, but it was more of a “I want to make your bedroom into my study. Is that okay?” kind of question. He didn’t care. He was having so much fun at college, we literally had to make him come home to visit. And then he worked at a camp all summer after his sophomore year. And he would be spending second semester during his junior year in London. I knew he wouldn’t miss it.
So yeah. I didn’t feel bad about it. I work from home, and I needed more space. I was teaching and writing from the kitchen table, and my stuff was everywhere. And I have trouble focusing when the house isn’t in order, which is frequently the case in the kitchen/living area. In the kitchen, food is also too available, the T.V. is tempting, and I’m usually doing laundry there (yep, no laundry room, so it’s also the laundry area).
I decided I needed a room with less distractions. I was writing a few manuscripts and had no quiet space to do it (and working in my bedroom makes me sleepy!). Having my own study was the natural and logical solution to all of these pressing issues. Technically, my son’s room wasn’t even his real room because he grew up in a different room. (I made him switch rooms with his little brother when he left for college. But that’s another story.)
I live in a house of men, so for years I have tempered my girly-decorating juices to match my environment. Apparently, decorating desires die hard, because I still long to make that girly room. Just one. Please. Continue reading