Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Psalm 84:3, The swallow has found herself a nest

 Here I sit, in my new home, fascinated by the play of
colors I chose and architectural elements that are some
of the bones of the house.   It is unfortunate that in this view
I also see the fewest unpacked boxes.  I feel guilty that I have not
kept everyone informed, but I have realized that I have apparently
reached an age after which only one major thing can be done
at a time.  For instance, I can write or I can unpack.
For two days I have forced myself to unpack, not so you'd
 know it. I have a soon-to-be-glorious two-room studio:
I do have an excuse for the mess; the movers dropped my inexpensive
particle board cabinet that held all of my folded fabric.  BOOM.
No more cabinet (and no insurance because it had not reached
the truck).  The most challenging part of this episode is,
how do I arrange it all so that it works even better than before?
I really am just touching base with all of you.  I still intend to share most
of the adventure, but for now I must go to the kitchen and rearrange
stuff so the plasterers can finish.  The wall color is actually in the plaster,
and it is lovely.  Wow, I just looked at the second studio picture; it
looks like one of those find-the-urn or where's-waldo puzzles.


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