Unfinished Business

One of my previous stories from September 9, 2010 - ‘ Writing With the Toilet Seat Down’ - told of my excitement in finally having my own office; my own space to write. The house we moved into last year has one-and-half bathrooms – the ‘half’ I commandeered to being my ‘office.’ And it IS my own space – as long as no other members in my house use it (!).

I have escalated my obsession with my office by banning everyone, even house guests, from using MY space. Yes, peek, have a tour, praise its beauty – but then get out. I make guests walk down two flights of stairs to the lower level of the house to use the ‘office’ down there.

That’s how selfish I am; how protective I am of my domain.

I serve coffee and tea to my guests like there’s no tomorrow, making up for my failings as a fully obliging hostess. But then, sadly, after all that coffee and tea, my adored guests have to make their way back down two flights of stairs.

Although we aren’t the socialites of the neighbourhood, constantly entertaining guests till the wee hours, I have been compiling reasons why my office – er, the washroom – is out of service. Just in case.

Cockamamie stories such as alligators coming up through the toilet. Not that we have alligators in these parts, mind you, but it sure sounds good.

And someone believed me – almost.

But it truly COULD happen, as just the other day an Emperor Penguin was found in New Zealand. http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/jun/21/emperor-penguins-detour-new-zealand

But I digress....

The most recent story used was that the hot water tank was on the fritz. Therefore, the water pressure was ‘off,’ and the toilet was, sadly, completely unusable (the hot water tank is very close in proximity to my office, so the story was highly probable). I apologetically explained that the landlord was set to repair it in two days (says I with my ever-batting eyelashes), so please use the downstairs ‘office’ – please.

And they bought it.

Um – I’m a writer – I create stuff. And in the name of protecting my domain, a girl’s gotta do what a girls’ gotta do.

But as you can see, the morph from lavatory to writing cave hasn’t progressed much further than from when we first moved in. My office still sits in limbo, waiting for more updating. Some days I am frustrated by the lack of progression. It’s been almost a year since we moved into this humble abode, and it’s shameful, really, to see that my office is pretty much the same. Sure, it’s a dream that has stalled, and previous announcements and proclamations have embarrassingly fallen to the wayside.

But it’s mine.

I write at the kitchen table, religiously pulling out my laptop every day at 5am, typing madly while in my precious jammies; not in the bathroom/office like I had previously planned.

But all good things come to those who wait.

I am a busy woman, spending all my money on my kids and coffee, and spending all my time on my kids, laundry, work and writing-on-the-fly. And making up…’stuff.’

I don’t wait very well, and some days it kills me - the waiting - but I have patience.

It will come; it will. It is still MY space – my office. I know some folks in my humble abode ‘borrow’ it when I am not around. They aren’t supposed to, but they do. So I keep chasing them down, and keep making up stories to prevent others from trying to sneak their way in there. And consider getting a lock.

For now, I keep writing. I have my space, I have my writing, and there are more important things in life to worry about.

Like stocking enough toilet paper to write on.


What kind of unfinished business do you have? Anything you have made public that you weren't able to follow through, with? Embarrassing? Funny?