My new British Partner’s desk arrived today, it is a heavy, serious, beautiful old wooden desk, and I took to it right away. The minute I sat down it felt like my desk.

Maria is never happier than when she is  re-imagining a part of my house, and while she can be scary sometimes, I am grateful. I hadn’t really touched or cleaned out my study since we moved into the farmhouse, I write every day and am wary of disruptions.

This was a big one. I was writing on an old farm kitchen table surrounded by two more old farm tables. Every surfaced was covered with books, papers, cables, camera equipment. We removed two large piece of furniture from the study, the old Victorian sofa that Lenore took over, and a farm table Maria requisitioned for her studio.

We hauled out numerous camera bags, book I don’t use, garbage bags, old papers. In the new arrangement, the big desk sits at the end of the room, flanked by a farm table on one side (my former writing desk) and two old bookcases on the other.

It took hours to get this far, and we have hours to go tomorrow. I was freaked out by the process, when my writing system is shut down I feel like a man on oxygen with the tank turned off. More later. We are tired.