My house has a front porch and a back porch and to accuse me of not using them to their fullest potential would find me guilty. I’ve lost count of the years Mom has been storing the furniture that wouldn’t fit on their garage after she closed shop on my front porch. The carpenter bees have been feasting on the roof joists and ceiling and it’s not screened, so that limits the time one can spend on the front porch without becoming a blood donor.
The back porch is the laundry room and storage shed for my tools and yard equipment. I’m nearly convinced it will cave in and take the back half of the house with it. Remodeling is on my bucket list at this point.
The weather is crisp this weekend, so I put bug bombing my house on my to-do list, which means four hours and thirty minutes out of the my house. So I relocated current writing projects and part of my old desk to the front porch. I had a lovely idea of making myself a writing desk on what space I could carve back for myself on the front porch.
But there’s no way to sit at it with the desktop surface propped on sawhorses. All I have to sit on are rocking chairs and I’m composing this on my knee. Not comfortable at all.
I still love the idea for those times when you have to get off the computer. But I’m afraid I will have to get legs and make a table out of it. The last time I tried that the results were less than pretty. With this piece—formerly the leg of my L-shaped computer desk—I have screw holes already created in it. I’m considering some premade table legs or stair banisters that I can screw in to make it stable and give me leg room. When I get some money.
Second job hunt hasn’t gone so well, so I’m reopening my account at Freelance.com. I had luck there before, hopefully I will again. Now if my true side hustle is writing fiction, I’ve got three and a half hours to make a dent in Stellar’s rough draft.