Everything I have every read about emotional health has very stringent ideas about the bedroom— it is for sleeping and intimacy. No work, no screens, etc.

But this morning at 7 a.m., I decided to try and carve a home office space in my bedroom.

In part, because our 9-year-old cat, Oz, either has urinary crystals again and doesn’t feel well or he’s depressed that we’re all home but never paying attention to him. And he’s jealous of the kittens.

The weather has been 50 degrees and windy, so my brick house is retaining winter cold which makes the dining room table a frigid workspace.

In the beginning, I worked at the dining room table, we ate at the kitchen table and things seemed fine.

But now, the teen took a desk and kitchen chair to her room to do schoolwork and so I’d like to have the dining room table clear to eat.

My room is my sanctuary. Home of the birds. Promised land for the cats. Bright. Sunny. Warm.

I’m going to try it.

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Oz is the cat in the first and last photo. Opie is the big cat in the middle. Misty is the kitten. They are all— Fog, too, but she’s unpictured— over me. Let’s hope it’s the newness because otherwise I may have to throw some of them out and close the door.

Update: 8:30 a.m., starting work:

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