I’m chomping at the bit. G reminds me that I need to chill. Still I have closet envy.
If only I could move in. The filled boxes and empty spaces call to me.
“Chill,” he says running away from me.
I don’t blame him. I must seem mad as a hatter and fall into a nap on the new sofa - hiding from myself.
Only now, at two thirty, can I access my computer. The window next to it is finished. I don’t mind this small workspace in a corner of the living room.
“Stop wiggling,” he tells me.
As we survey the new office space, we both agree the desk needs to be attached to the wall. Something we agree on. He’s aghast at the idea of me touching up paint then he tells me he’s only teasing me.
I took him seriously.