Letting go has been surprisingly easy

I have one week left on my office lease. It's a weird feeling. I fully realize that this is happening - I've been clearing the space out and painting the walls back white and bringing stuff home - and I'm all too aware that I only have a week left to finish everything. Simultaneously, I don't think I've fully grasped the situation yet.

In a week, I won't have an office. The perfect room I built and that has served me beautifully for four and a half years will be nothing more than a blank space to be torn to pieces. And all I will have left are memories.

Just think of all the movie nights, the days I rushed to get a book published, when I edited manuscripts my writers had sent me, the rainy autumn days with freshly brewed pumpkin cake flavored coffee from my pod machine, the naps on the leather sofa, my partner playing with the puppy on the rug.

Yet, it seems that I only realize the finality on a rational level. I've focused more on the upcoming autumn. And the penthouse project. And all the work I have coming up before December.

Recently, I've forgot to stress about having no perfect space. I think it might be because there are other things to think about right now, like decorating the home.

Which, of course, will always be a mess and never the same perfect room that I have all to myself as my office was.

The solution is, of course, to get a new office.

But, for some reason, it seems like there's no rush to do that right away.