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Working Together to Work Together

7 Aug

Hoh. Lee. Hell.

It’s been a bitch of a two weeks.

I haven’t written, but know that I have  VERY GOOD CAUSE.  My show went into tech and then into opening (very successful, so yay), my work life got slammed, and I was battling pretty  major fatigue at every turn.

And then the bombshell:  Dusty (my boyfriend, ICYMI), would start working from home.  Immediately.

First of all:  This is very good news.  He does something similar to what I do–that is, a whole bunch of different stuff–and working from home will provide him with more flexibility.  The change in his work arrangement has other benefits, which I won’t get into because it’s none of our business.  But yay!  It’s good.

The immediate concern was, of course, space.  Dusty found out this move was taking place on Thursday, and on Saturday he moved his work computer and stuff into our house to begin on Monday.  So our first thought was where in Hades to PUT the damn stuff.  He has his downstairs rehearsal/recording studio, but there’s not enough room for all his music stuff AND his work stuff.  So that left the office.

My office.

Now, considering I’m a spoiled, introverted only child who is greedy with space and craves solitude, I was surprised at how utterly OK I was with the idea of him “moving in” to my room.  I could easily move out my “thinking couch” (yes, that’s really what I called it) and bring in a second desk.  I was HAPPY to do it.  But there was only one desk.  His desk.  I knew I had to vacate the premises immediately and return his desk to him. But then, of course, I had to get a desk of my own.

The next step was an ordeal. Since he had to be back to work Monday, we had to get our shit lined up Sunday after my matinee.  The final performance of OPENING WEEKEND, which  meant we were fresh out of tech/dress/performances and I was exhausted.  Even still, we piled into his car and drove to the local thrift store.  It took a massive effort (choosing a desk, realizing it wouldn’t fit in the car, running to Fred Meyer to buy the rando screwdriver needed to take it apart, taking it apart, driving it home in two trips, going out for ice cream (!), re-assembling it, moving my crap into the new desk, loading Dusty’s stuff into his desk), but I am now the proud owner of a beautiful roll-top desk that I adore and purchased for a steal.

And my office is now our office.

Once we finally had our office in order, Dusty took a look around and said

“We’re going to be seeing a whole lot of each other.”



This is a big deal.  For the first year and a half of our relationship, we led very separate lives.  Our own careers, our own friends, our own homes, our own lives.  We loved each other and spending time together, but also had our own shit going on.  That changed when we moved in together–sharing a home means sharing a life. But even with a shared home and shared life, we’re both independent as hell.  And part of that is–was–time apart during the day.

But here’s the thing.

I’m happy he’s going to be around.  Maybe I have to turn in my Independent Woman card (j/k, you can pry it from my cold dead fingers), but I’m stoked that we’ll be together all day.  I feel like I should be worried…but I’m not.  I just think it’s cool.  And it’s not like we’re really together ALL the time–he still has to go to the office for brief spurts several times per week, and I’m always flitting about.

It’s a new step, for sure.  But even to my independence-and-solitude-craving-introverted-self, it feels good to have a buddy at work.

And now I do.

Sarahphina’s Finds (2-8-13) “Mama Bird Needs To Nest” Edition.

8 Feb

Maybe it’s the weather.  Maybe it’s The Artist’s Way, with all the talk about creating an environment for oneself.  Maybe it’s that one of my best friends just had a baby and I’m living vicariously through her.  I don’t know what is up, but this Mama Bird is nesting.

In theory, anyway.

I have no actual, like, money.  And even if I did, it’s still Shopping Embargo February, so even if I win the lottery TOMORROW (unlikely, as I haven’t bought a lottery ticket since my 18th birthday), my inner consumerist is gonna be denied a shopping fix for another twenty days.  As such, all my nesting/home decorating must take place in the tree of my own imagination.  And what a tree it is!

  • I’d like to start with some good readin’.  I checked out Cottage Witchery from the library last year and really dug it.  Now, I’m not Wiccan.  The spells and incantations aren’t really my jam (but by all means, go for it if it’s for you!).  But I’ve always had a strong sense of ritual, and turning cleaning into ritual gave me a deeper appreciation for my beautiful home.  And while I don’t really go for “color magick,” many of the tips did give my home a peaceful, happy vibe.  And now that I think about it, they did make me feel more connected to the earth and nature and whatever, so it’s deeply possible that the Wiccans know something I don’t.  And I LIKE having flowers and candles everywhere and thinking about chasing bad spirits away when I sweep.
  • As you probably know by now, I’m big on Pinterest.  Follow my “For The Home” board and join the madness.  You’ll notice that I have a weird obsession with bathrooms.
Exhibit A

Exhibit A

  • I have to give some love to Karen at Laurelwood Station.  If you’re in the Portland area, check her out.  She’s just launched her business and doesn’t have a webpage yet, but you can check out her Facebook page.  My office manager at work recently ordered some of her terrariums for our office and they are GORGEOUS.  Now, I don’t have a great track record with plants.  Their lifespans decrease significantly when they enter my care.  But my terrarium will require watering once every two weeks.  Every two weeks?!  Even I can manage that.  The pictures don’t do justice to how pretty these are.  If she could make one big enough, I’d sell my house and live in a terrarium.
Prime real estate.

Prime real estate.

  • When I was a little girl, I desperately wanted a canopy bed (or, as I called it, a bed with a roof on it)(I was a weird kid).  My childhood dream has grown up big time with this gorgeous farmhouse canopy bed from Pottery Barn.  I extra like it with the curtains.  A bed this epic would dwarf our teensy little bedroom, but a girl can dream.
The stuff that dreams are made of.

The stuff that dreams are made of.

Before you peace out for the weekend, check this out.  Because there really is no place like home.