Things have been hectic. We have a guest over and as much as I hate to say this, I am ready for the guest to go home.
The guest is a sweetheart. It is just that since I was little, I was never the type of person to have people over. My brother and I never had kids over for sleepovers. My parents rarely had family over visiting and when we did, we used to camp on my parents' bed talking about how we were eager for them to leave.
My home has always been my temple. The place where I get away from the world. So to have the world come in is a bit nerve wrecking.
I feel real bad about this. As though I am this spoiled individual. I feel uncomfortable painting and feel my little routine will be on hold for the next 10 days... Virginia Woolf was right. "A woman must have money and a room if she is to write fiction." In my case, it is paramount to my existence.