Balanced Mind,  Health

The Room Where I Write

Room Where I Write

This is the room where I write. It is cluttered with papers, things to take care of, and things left undone. There are clothes piled behind me, just washed. It is a multi-purpose room. A stainless steel sink for washing things sits behind me as well as a washer and dryer that really don’t match.

The room where I write. To my right is a black photographic enlarger that I have been meaning to use but I haven’t used in years. I feel bad when I look at it. I like the rust-colored wallpaper, but not the wallpaper border. Although I do like what it represents, pictures of Rome, Paris, and London. There are photographs just above my writing desk of me when I weighed less and actually liked my hair, my mom with my grandma on her 80th birthday, and my father and me on my wedding day. Everyone is smiling in all of them. 

A gray stuffed raccoon stares at me from one of the wooden cubby holes just above the computer. There is also a box of mailing envelopes, a pack of half-used printing paper, a couple of boxes of hanging file folders, and a bunch of prescription pads like I didn’t have enough of them at work. There is a big golden basket full of pens right next to the computer. I don’t use half of them.

Where I Write

A stack of unread magazines and a brand-new sewing machine that I still don’t know how to use are sitting over on one of the other counters. This is truly a room belonging to someone with Attention deficit disorder. 

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