Little Room Ramble
I've come down into my little basement storage/writing/occasional-sleeping room. The space heater is on, and the wind is blowing fiercely outside. I wish that I could access the room from inside the house, but as it is I have to walk out the back door, down the steps and around the corner, unlock the second door, check the floor for slugs before finally lighting a candle and settling into my more-or-less cozy low-ceilinged, cracked floor haven. If I didn't have to do all of that I'd probably spend much more time here, and would likely still be sleeping down here as well, because it is the ONLY place in this tiny house where I have a bit of privacy. I can't even take a shit without one kid or another barging into the bathroom, but no one comes in here. Apart from the camping gear and other life detritus that shares this space, it is all mine.
However, for whatever insane reason, I have not been spending much, if any, time down here in the past few months. Perhaps because I like to be able to putter around in the evenings -- to take a bath, drink some tea, move from room to room, pace when I'm thinking. I like to be able to look in on my children sleeping, to pull random books off the book shelves, or whatever. While this is my space, it feels constrained in its separateness. That's part of what makes it also a bit magical and special, but hard to navigate in relation to the rest of my home. Not sure if that makes sense. Ah well. See, now I want to go take a bath, meaning just as I've gotten settled in here I must blow out the candle and strike my way out through the fierce winds back to the rest of my home.
Perhaps after my bath I'll return to get advice on parenting mega-dilemma, about which I think I completely over-reacted earlier tonight. That seems more useful than this rather useless ramble-on about my little room.
However, for whatever insane reason, I have not been spending much, if any, time down here in the past few months. Perhaps because I like to be able to putter around in the evenings -- to take a bath, drink some tea, move from room to room, pace when I'm thinking. I like to be able to look in on my children sleeping, to pull random books off the book shelves, or whatever. While this is my space, it feels constrained in its separateness. That's part of what makes it also a bit magical and special, but hard to navigate in relation to the rest of my home. Not sure if that makes sense. Ah well. See, now I want to go take a bath, meaning just as I've gotten settled in here I must blow out the candle and strike my way out through the fierce winds back to the rest of my home.
Perhaps after my bath I'll return to get advice on parenting mega-dilemma, about which I think I completely over-reacted earlier tonight. That seems more useful than this rather useless ramble-on about my little room.