Terri took a deep breath as she opened the door to the turret - new home of her art studio. She had waited so long for, as Virginia Woolfe put it, "a room of one's own" to create her art, instead of sharing the kitchen or rec room with her family, or worse yet - the balcony of their old apartment in the city, breathing in car exhaust and deaking pigeon poop. The turret was perfect because it was isolated from the rest of the house, which meant peace and quiet, and private, so she could create her sculptures without fear one of the kids or their friends would barrel into it as they rushed through the house.
The door opened with an ominous creak, allowing a musty, rank smell into the hallway. Terri wrinkled her nose at the smell, which reminded her a little of old dust and something stuck under a porch which had died.
"Well you have to expect it'll need a good clean out after being empty so long," she said to herself. "No doubt something has died in the walls, and no surprise there."
She stepped over the threshold to survey her space more thoroughly.
It was a circular, narrow space with wide wooden boards for flooring and stone walls, similar to the foyer but without the amethyst, so less magical-seeming. Dull, dusty, and dark: the small window barely let enough light in to see a foot in front of her, but she was thrilled just the same. There was an electrical outlet for light and an old style radiator for heat.
"All the comforts of home," she chuckled, gingerly walking across the room in the dimness and peering out the window, overlooking the front of the house. "Maybe soon we can enlarge this and get some natural light in, but for now, electric will have to do!"
She spied Kevin digging through the back of his SUV, and when he looked up, she waved. He grinned and waved back, giving her a thumbs up. It had been at Kevin's insistence they put an offer in on the house, mainly to get out of the city, but in large part because he knew how badly she wanted - needed - a private studio for her work.
"Mooooommmmmm!" came a desperate cry from below.
Terri pulled away from the window and sighed. It was isolated, yes, but not sound proof. Reluctantly, she turned from the window and headed back to the stairway and reality. They had only scratched the surface of getting everything in and organized - there would be time for focusing on getting her studio organized once everything else was in place.