Spaces

Budget. At some point, all our druthers meet the dreaded word budget. For instance, that little nook I use for reading and writing. Mine is eleven and a half feet by eleven and a half feet. It was an “extra unfinished room” when we moved into our house. There was no budget to fix it, so it stayed “Mom’s back storage” until two kids moved out with some of their stuff. There was still mostly no budget. But I fit in some new wiring for eventual outlets during a rewiring project elsewhere in the house. A bit later, I insulated the walls and ceiling.

Eventually, I budgeted for wallboard. I did the ceiling and walls myself. An electrician finished the wiring, and I had an inelegant but functional room. Someone I know in real estate gushed that I had added value other than the house; did I want to sell? After sending them on their way, I moved some of my library in, built a model railroad, and shoehorned a tiny desk for me and the computer. Oh, that’s right. The cats spend a lot of time in there, too. Mom still needs to store stuff, so the space beneath the model railroad is for storage.

Contentment? Well, I’m not about to cue the parade and confetti yet! The space for the desk is somewhat constrained. If you were addicted to rooms with a view, lots of space, and heat in the winter, this would not do.
Like most things, it’s more than what many have and less than others.
It’s like my 8X10-foot greenhouse workshop. I created my space by playing a game of Stone Soup. Like the spare room I made, it happened bit by bit. I remember carving at a kitchen table in an Ottawa apartment and a picnic bench in campgrounds (Grey Jays came to watch me daily).

It’s not how much space you have but what you create in your space.