We went to work today and then stopped off at IKEA for the "art table." I said, "Let's not call it our study anymore. Let's call it our studio."
"Our creative room," Tom said.
"That's what a studio is," I said. Am I a violent negotiator?
We moved his desk and chair up. Pots and pans. His clothes are in his closet. My clothes will soon be in my closet. We moved up a dresser for Anne's room. We moved the wicker chairs onto the west balcony of the bedrooms.
I washed the hot pads.
The daffodils are crumpling in their pot.
A small anxiety rises in my throat.