(no subject)
Every day I am closer and closer to living in a Victorian mansion in a 'bad part' of Minneapolis. I think I received photographs with a dropped jaw. And then became immediately nervous because it seems like such a good thing and good things don't seem to happen here. And with each bit a little bit more nervous and with each bit a little bit just as good.
The main level is covered in old rugs and furniture and a pump organ to boot. I imagine opening the curtains and eating breakfast there in the dusty light. My room would be at the top of a massive, slippery staircase. It is a comforting blue now, but soon will be sage green to match the attached bathroom with its new claw foot tub which is right in front of a round east window. Did I imagine the stained glass? The room has a turret alcove and the yard has apple, cherry, and peach trees. Peaches? Can we really grow peaches here? And a wrap-around porch. And oh I sigh. And because of it all, I need visitors. So we can eat cherries and drink iced tea on the porch and play parcheesi in the alcove. And buy oranges at the market (so close!) and bike on the green-way (even closer!). Oh I sigh . . .
The main level is covered in old rugs and furniture and a pump organ to boot. I imagine opening the curtains and eating breakfast there in the dusty light. My room would be at the top of a massive, slippery staircase. It is a comforting blue now, but soon will be sage green to match the attached bathroom with its new claw foot tub which is right in front of a round east window. Did I imagine the stained glass? The room has a turret alcove and the yard has apple, cherry, and peach trees. Peaches? Can we really grow peaches here? And a wrap-around porch. And oh I sigh. And because of it all, I need visitors. So we can eat cherries and drink iced tea on the porch and play parcheesi in the alcove. And buy oranges at the market (so close!) and bike on the green-way (even closer!). Oh I sigh . . .