I am moving up in the world. Finally creating an environment I can create in. It was difficult to sit down at my old, tired laptop to write, the over-loud whirring of its uncertain life, the staggered grating of the last working fan as it struggled to give me hope that it would endure another day just for me, for old time's sake. Words and sentences appearing, on a secondary screen because the other was broken, at least 20 seconds after I'd typed them. I was constantly pausing, waiting for my computer to catch up. I might as well have had a scribe.
But I was able to update, my dad giving me an extra computer he had. Words appear as I type them now. I'd almost forgotten how that feels. One step in the right direction for me being able to write more often.
Yet every time I sat down to write, I couldn't sit for long. The metal chair beneath me did not allow for longevity in one position. It compelled me to get up and move around. That didn't help my writing pursuits. Helped my tv watching, which was booming on its own.
But, yesterday I went to the world of desk chairs. Rows and rows stretching before me, yearning for my butt to sit in every one. I hunkered down in slouching positions, moved each chair so I could kick my feet up, rubbed my back against leather like a feline to the leg of a potential petter. I wiggled, wriggled, crossed one leg and both, rocked, flopped, and contemplated my butt, long overdue for some better home comfort, softer plush cushioning without lugging it around with me everywhere I go. I found the perfect one. Brought it home and assembled it myself. Now, here I sit, butt nestled in comfort as I slouch and write. I could lounge here all day. Definitely the right direction.
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