Here’s the thing about moving: it sucks. Even if you’re relocating from a hovel to a palace, from Stockton, CA to Kapa’a, Kauai, and even if the level of anticipation is off the charts, it’s still a TON of work, and never seems to go as smoothly or quickly as you hope it will.

Thankfully, we aren’t moving to a new city (although, I would definitely be up for Kapa’a). Or even a new house. We’re simply moving things around IN our house. It does, however, still constitute a significant event that, at this writing, seems like it will be a major pain in the backside for an extended period of time. Let me explain.

Fran just got a new job. While this is definitely “woohoo” worthy, it also requires rethinking our co-located office arrangement. Pre-new job, we shared space in a rather small bedroom into which we had crammed two desks, three book cases, a filing cabinet, a shredder, and some shelves. It also contained my guitars, a banjo, a ukulele, an amp, a trumpet, a coronet, a bazillion books, and an ironing board. Things were kinda tight. But it worked.

Goodbye, view of Pikes Peak. Hello, window wells.

This is how it worked: when I had a meeting, I ran Fran out. And vice versa (though more versa than vice). However, her new position will involve LOTS of meetings and calls, which will require MORE privacy, which will also require ME to hit the road with greater frequency.

Thus we (we?) decided to move me to the basement. Goodbye, view of Pikes Peak. Hello, window wells.

And so, at this very moment, I am typing these words from my new subterranean workspace. It’s not fancy and there are several families of spiders currently in residence, but my desk is down here and soon (defined as: not today and probably not for a while) I’ll have it all fixed up. Close your eyes and imagine a space where writing, guitar playing, art making, trumpet blowing, speed bag whacking, and heavy bag slugging can all happily coexist. Yeah, it’s going to be the ultimate studio/man cave and, if I can somehow finagle a mini-fridge, it will be the definition of awesome.

But right now, not so awesome. Most of my junky items - I mean cherished, valuable, and totally practical office accessories - are still two floors up, waiting to be schlepped down here. And yes, I will be the schlepper.

The funny/ironic thing about this move is that I began my writing/art career in a basement. Most of my books and a lot of pastels were produced “underground.” From there, I occupied a string of cubicles in various buildings. Last year, thanks to the Rona, I set up shop in that upstairs bedroom. And now, here I am... back... in... the... basement. Cue The Lion King.

Not exactly sure what all this means. But I do know this: the light is great down here (two - count ‘em - two window wells!), it’s big (I could practice The Git Up between my desk and the punching bags), and I have the feeling I will produce some great writing and art in this sunken sanctuary. I mean, it worked before. And so far, so good. While it’s just me, my desk, and some boxes right now, I have managed to get my “real” work done, pound out a few bad poems, organize some of my paintings, finish a new chapter in my latest novel, and even write a blog post!

Boom! It’s starting! The creativity that only a basement can inspire is already beginning to flow! A tsunami of prolificity is on the way!

I’m going to keep that mindset - maintaining an optimistic attitude, expecting those glass-is-half-full kind of things to happen - as I sweep spiders and cart countless loads of books down the stairs. And in the down times, when I’m not deciding where to hang my llama-in-a-taxi photo or how to display my Flash action figure, I plan to sit quietly and gaze out one of my window wells, contemplating the circle of life.