Three words: Feng shui

Feng Shui.  I can't say I've ever believed in it before, but I'm beginning to.

After I found out I was pregnant I began thinking of places to put a crib.  While some people are firm believers of sleeping in the same room with their baby, I'm not one of those people.  We have two bedrooms in our little apartment, so it's not really a necessity anyway.  But as I surveyed our spare room I began to realize there was no room for a crib.  Our book shelves and computer desks took up too much space.

So I stewed.  Like potatoes and carrots.  And when the flavors of ideas had sufficiently steeped the solution fell right into my lap.  Switch the rooms.  Genius, I know.

One long Thursday Paul and I began the daunting task of sorting, packing, lifting, moving, and organizing until our personal belongings and bed were neatly stashed in the little bedroom and the master bedroom sported its new office look.  It all made sense to my little mind, but something felt wrong.

The room with the bed was not my bedroom.  It was just a room with bed.  I avoided going in to the new office and stationed my laptop in the living room instead.  I kept asking myself, "What have I done?"

Then I had my birthday last Sunday, and I received a most beautiful and generous gift from my family.

My own sewing machine.  It was love at first sight!

And just like my old dryer, I immediately started dreaming about the adventures we would share.

We would watch scary movies in the afternoon (because that's the only time I can successfully do that without wetting myself).  That sewing machine could warn me when to close my eyes and tell me when intense parts were over.

We would exchange secrets about our fears, joys, insecurities, strengths, favorite coworkers, hidden candy, smells we hate, what wakes us up at night, the color white, giant squid dreams, chihuahua dogs, five letter words that start with 'M', television shows that have too many seasons, and how cute my husband is when he's drinking apple juice.

We would sneak in the pantry and eat spoonfuls of peanut butter until lip-smacking noises would stifle laughter and metal utensils would clink against the empty glass jar.

We would sit together at my laptop and blog about the men cleaning out the gutters or the Spanish chatter of my landlady cutting overgrown branches from her favorite tree just outside our window.  Or maybe we would write about how uncomfortable we both think industrial carpet can be.

We would take long, luxurious walks around the block in the cool breeze of the afternoon while listening to Jason Mraz or possibly Michael Buble.

We would even pay bills together so we could have light, heat, insurance, phone service, and all sorts of modern conveniences that we'd enjoy while carrying out our various activities.

But most importantly, we would sew!  We'd create glorious quilts and pillows and curtains and baby clothes and pot holders and a bushel of fabricy goodness!

There was just one little problem.  I had no place to put my beautifully new friend/machine.  Fretting ensued.  Sorrow followed.  Then, I was blessed with a solution to my dilemma.  Switch the rooms back!  Though not entirely. 

We can keep the computer desk across from the door in one corner and a sewing desk can sit beside it.  The other side of the room can host our comfy bed and once again resume its role as 'bedroom'.  MY 'bedroom'.

The spare and smaller room will be the library/baby room.

This allows prime sewing time while the baby naps without disturbing infant slumber with the whir of the presser foot.

Now, the tricky part. . . convincing Paul.