After all these years, I'm moving out. All my stuff's been un-successfully forced into a closet, spilling all over the floor, and stacked precariously in baskets and bags amongst the toys and in the back room. Now I finally get a room of my own. I'm not even sure how it happened.
My four kids share two rooms. All had been fine up to now, but we recently decided that Jay is getting older (and his little sister sometimes gets on his nerves) and he sometimes doesn't like all the dolls that steal his Legos. And the girls thought it totally unfair for him to have his own room and the three of them to live together. Although they did think it would be cool to have bunk beds. So Nattie's moving to the girls' room, pushing Elle to the office. Dad's now homeless, but since he actually works from home, he does need a space, so he's taking the front room of the house. Where all my books and yarn and whatnot are. The eviction from the office also kicks all my scrapbooking and miscellaneous crafts stuff out into the hallway. So, then I was homeless. Until somehow, everyone agreed that I could move into the spare room in the basement which is currently the dominion of all the toys. Wow - how did that happen? I'm not really sure, but I am busy clearing out the boxes of puzzles with missing pieces, the piles of Monopoly money, all those 12" beauties and the bazillion Legos before anyone realizes that I've relocated.
Then I'm going to add a door. And a lock. And a coffee machine.