It was an emotionally exhausting weekend, but it’s a brand new year (I’m just possibly-Chinese-or-maybe-some-sort-of-Pacific-Islander-slash-Aboriginal-and-Vietnamese enough to declare tradition and demand red envelopes) so I’m officially announcing my intentions to start fresh this morning: the Year of the Dragon (aka Year of the Creeper) starts NOW and it will be excellent, or else.
Among the changes that will be happening over the next few months is the relocation of all my stuff into the office. The room was set aside for Ed when we moved into Sparta, but he is rarely in there these days and also frustrated with all my things (I do have a lot of things). His frustration, lack of desire to computer and my overall feeling of homebaselessness (that’s a word now) have led us to agree on the change and the office will be entirely mine as soon as I can make this happen. It’s a fairly significant undertaking, but it’s eased by the fact that I am a bum who would better spend her time organizing the house instead of playing games on her iPhone. Stage One begins today, in which I acquire storage boxes and begin to sift through all of my stuff and sort it into three piles: keep, toss/recycle, donate. I hope that by this weekend, I’ll be ready to start moving actual furniture (although that is so lofty a goal it would not be inappropriate to refer to it as Mega Lofty) and then be able to hole myself up in my very own room of crafting/computing goodness.
All of this has led me to mull over the unique thought patterns that emerge from being an only child. There are at least a half dozen only children in my circle of friends, and we all retained different quirks from spending our formative years alone. My big one is needing my own space; an unshared area I can call mine and do with as I please. Ed tends to retreat into his own head and get lost there, only coming out when he’s forcefully reminded that other people exist. Other friends say they find it difficult to share, or get stressed out by too much “other people” time; needing quiet to be alone with their own thoughts. I can relate to all of this, and I’m sure all of us only children experience all the same idiosyncrasies one way or another, in varying degrees. Our parents basically RUINED US FOR OTHERS with their lack of reproductive ways – THANKS A LOT, MOM AND DAD.
I’m kidding, but it’s interesting to wonder how much of my perceived (self or otherwise) selfishness has a direct correlation to my singular childhood.
And in the end, who really cares – I’m getting MY OWN ROOM and I may have to throw a party to celebrate it.
Rooms like cake, right?