I never once held a house party in seven years. What would be the point of inviting many guests over? The lie I told myself was that I would, someday, so I bought party games or got furniture that could host many people. Then as the clutter suffocated the house, it became an impossible dream. Now, I don’t have a need for anything more than a few chairs, some tables, and maybe, possibly, a couch.
All I need is a place to sit and chat.
I did a video interview a few months ago that took me into the home studio office of an acquaintance. We had two chairs and a table for drinks to sip while recording. We spoke for 51 minutes and had a good time. There were more items in the room than just that, but not much more. Why would it need much more? Just enough for the needs of the owner of the space, without all the fuss that would inhibit creativity.
I’d like to move closer to that for “Zeal.”
The idea of having a collaborate space has always been the biggest draw in what I would want out of a home office. Somewhere where I could livestream writing sessions, invite over a guest or two for writing and editing or having an illustrator read and create from my works, or the reverse. Somewhere where I wouldn’t feel embarrassed by the sheer amount of stuff I own in disorganized messes. Just tables and chairs?
Besides the computer equipment and such.
I sit here, on the tail’s end of my months of packing, in my dining room that used to be haunted by a table full of so much clutter I couldn’t even get around to its backside without some special negotiating. I can pack up the laptop I’m writing with for a weekend getaway without more than a moment’s notice. The only items left around are the optional ones that I do like but I didn’t see an urgent need to store away.
It will feel good when this is all done.
Wherever I go next, it won’t have everything I’m surrounded by now. Some of those items might go into a storage unit, others, donating to the thrift store. I’d like to start selling stuff, but right now I’m not in a good headspace to do that. I’m too tired from all this uncertainty. Where will I live? I don’t like thinking about the answer to that question, because wherever that takes me, there are risks, but I’m ready.
I just wish I’d know more of these answers.
By the time this article is published, I should be moved. These current woes should be just memories I’ve captured in essays like this, conversations with friends, or even in interviews where, in the back of my mind, I wondered: why couldn’t this have worked out better? If only this material and legal clutter were sorted out years ago…
But, would I have invited guests over?
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: Thinking about what furniture I want to keep and what furniture I’ll probably donate. These two wingback chairs I got years back are really the only two things I’d want to keep. The couch is too big. Other tables and chairs are nice but optional. Depends on the storage options I have and space I move into. Everything else can go into shelving units, bookshelves, or racks.|
|Related: Other Moving Zeal essays.|
|Picture: Drawing of what should be a core component of “Zeal,” my office, whether that’s just the living room or what will depend in the next few months.|
|Written On: February 3rd [30 minutes]|
|Last Edited: First draft; final draft.|