The move into our new apartment has been postponed again. In anticipation, our current place has become an urban development of cardboard boxes. Although it may sound more romantic in writing, the only piece of furniture left in the living room is an ottoman. Luckily, we are still reaping the joys of being newlyweds, as we both happily squeeze on it together when using our computers. I will always accept another excuse to work in bed, too.
Otherwise, the table is long-gone and I am without a workspace. But I have formulated a staircase desk for all of my creative needs: one cardboard box for my computer, one for my watercolors, and another for the still life and/or snack of the hour. The kitchen is another story. The washing machine/counter came to the end of its life. So any serious chopping requires appetizingly propping a cutting board on the garbage can. Anyone wanna come over for dinner?
Admittedly, it has not been too bad. Fewer plates means fewer to clean. And I have ignorantly stashed away my banking paperwork into an unfindable box for the time being. For the past four years, I have been living out of my suitcase. And although it is that way at the moment, I am grateful that it is only temporary.