Miguel brought me back a box from Yellowknife. It contained a desk for me, which he put together while I was at the candle party, and set up in the cupboard under the stairs. So now I have a little corner to myself, with my books and my buddhas and my frogs. The postcard of Turner's Ulysses Deriding Polyphemus that I've had on my walls since university is up again, and I've got space for my papers and binders and daybook. Prior to this, due to the size of the house and the lack of furniture, I've been working either on the dining room table (I have to move everything when people want to eat) or in the armchair in the living room (tv is being watched and I have no workspace). I keep paper journals besides this on-line one, two at the moment: one for my day-to-day efforts to keep the world from overwhelming me, and the other for my ongoing project to find links between justice and mindfulness. It's silly how much pleasure I get from seeing my thoughts and stuff copied from books, in my handwriting, on the pages of my journals... I write a lot of letters, too, some of my friends don't have email for various reasons (imprisonment / paranoia / general poverty). I'm sitting here in my cupboard right now with my notebooks and letters beside me, I won't have to pack up when dinner's ready, and I've got a new book on the Holocaust and two crossword puzzles waiting courtesy of the Globe and Mails Miguel brought me back from his trip to the real world...