When I made the decision to move back to Manchester, it wasn't a decision I took lightly. It was an upheaval of my entire life, and though there were good reasons for it, it has been a trauma, not least because of the logistics of getting everything here, but living half out of a storage locker is challenging to say the least, and all the while I have been wanting to make sure I'm not putting my life on hold.
With NaNoWriMo upon us, part of me is wishing I could have build a small shed with a portable heater at the bottom of the garden where I could retreat to, and where midnight writing sessions wouldn't disrupt my parents sleeping upstairs, because I like to talk to myself when I write and I like big, loud, clanky keyboards that are not really the best when your "office" space is meters away from other people's bedrooms. My second thought was to look for a cheapish Airbnb to rent for a couple of days/weekends so that I had something like a bolthole to go and stay in whilst I was taking part in the most antisocial of the writing sessions, though I think that the whole talk of national lockdown might have killed that dream, as well.
The whole thing feels weird and the idea of being stuck in the house twenty-four-seven (because I have no desire to run in this weather) is not appealing in the slightest. My desk is also buried gone, not that there would be floor space for it, since I thought it was buried in the furniture pile at the back of my storage unit. I can't even clamber in there for a bit of peace and writing time.
This probably reads as a really moany thing; it certainly feels it! I don't want to be whiny about it because I fully understand why the lockdown stuff is happening, but I just find it so hard, and there are certain people I would really rather not be away from whilst all of this is going on.
I will try and brighten up a little as the month goes on.
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