Unhappily Moved

I have been displaced.
I am not working in my upstairs, wonderfully quiet, well seated desk and all that is mine surroundings. I am sitting downstairs. I am not particularly happy about this.
I came home yesterday after work feeling tired and crumpled to find arrangements were already underway to repaint the entire upstairs. I knew a small modicum of these arrangements. I was informed that painting and the scraping of the horribly, grayish popcorn from all the ceilings was planned. This is an undertaking that had to happen before the replacement of carpeting could be started. I just didn’t realize it would have already begun. It had already begun in the extra bedroom upstairs.
The part that bothered me was that I came home to find objects from that one bedroom moved into my sanctum and that the work on that bedroom was almost finished and the plan was to start in my area today! (Well, tomorrow since this happened yesterday evening – which real time right now means today…Tuesday). But that meant I had a sudden attack of “What have they done with my stuff! Did they move any of my stuff? I need to gather up my stuff!”
My book notes were still spread out on my worktable. My laptop and gadgets, accessories and index cards were at my desk…I had things…I had stuff…I had to get moving!
So I gathered my most valued items in a flurry that would have made anyone think I was running from a burning house. It was quick, and as organized as my tired, crumpled mind would allow.
It’s a mess up there. It’s a mess in my wonderfully quiet, well seated area. I’m not sure how long it will stay that way. What happens if these guys get another job in-between? That has happened before and what if they don’t show up again for days, weeks…leaving my spot, my area, my, me, mine…
I have been displaced.
TT