The Writer’s Block

This is my new writing space, in my new office. It’s been a spare bedroom without a bed since my brother moved out, but my darling husband decided that he was tired of me writing at my little old school desk in our bathroom. It’s a big bathroom. The only real problem was the lack of electrical outlets.

But it’s done now.

We went to three Goodwills before finding this desk. I love it. It probably has a coat of lead paint, but I’m old enough to know better than to lick it.

The trio of blue-framed photos are ones that I took on my fifth grade class trip to Washington, D.C., two of the Capitol and one of the Washington Monument. My stepdad blew them up and framed them, and they’ve been in my room since I was eleven. I think they’ll go on the wall facing the door, stacked vertically.

I’ve had the rainbow Snoopy bank for as long as I can remember.

I got the name bar super cheap from work when that style was discontinued.

Then a pencil sharpener and the weird little dice roller on two feet.

We picked up the cardinal light the same day as the desk, at the second Goodwill. The top bird was missing his eye, so I suggested blinding the other poor bird so they’d match. It worked.

I can’t guess what else I’m going to put on it. Maybe that’s all.

I’ve been filling up the drawers tonight, though. I already have a craft drawer half full with glitter and glue sticks and protractors and tiny wooden clothespins that I found tucked away earlier.

The bottom right drawer contains only a shiny pink Birthday Girl sash. Don’t be fooled by the V on the name bar; eclectic is my middle name.

What do you think?