A migration   3 comments

Well, I have moved into the new domicile.  I do like it.  The street is more peaceful and thus far, there are no psychopath neighbors.  There is a wonderful neighbor who just mowed our lawn because someone stole our mower before we moved.  (He has a riding tractor mower.  Our yards are not really big.  I just think he really likes to mow.)  Anyway, I have seen two speeding cars ever, and everyone on the block thinks it’s terrible and evidently local police are going to set up and radar out there when school starts.  Where I was living before, police do not come for speeders.  If the car is speeding with a body hanging out of the trunk and people shooting out their windows like the OK Corral, yeah, maybe they’ll come.  Otherwise, you’re on your own.

So the move is good.  We moved to a much newer house which is pretty great too, but the old house had its charm.  One of those charms was the walk in closets, one of which I made my sacred space in.  My sacred closet.  These newer closets will only fit proper things in them, like clothing, maybe some books.   So I have gone about trying to make a space for myself.  After moving up and down the stairs with my things three times, I created a corner in the nice finished basement that I like.  I put up a neat little dressing screen and just made myself at home.  Unfortuntely, this same lovely basement is where the kids’ play room is located.  It’s a super cute play room and I don’t blame them for liking it.  However,  I was quite rapidly reminded why I retreated to my closet in the first place.  The kids love my stuff.  And though I can say “Don’t go in mommy’s area” until I am blue, my remonstrations certainly will not outweigh their interest in the stuff in mommy’s sacred basement corner.

I believe I am probably destined for a tiny little space under the stairs in the laundry room.  This laundry room is like any other utility room.  No drywall, no carpeting, no glowing,  soft lighting.  Concrete floor, tucked in with the furnace, hot water heater, washer and dryer.  It is a tiny spot.  I will have to dial down what I intend to have in there.  I can get a tiny area rug.  It will be a change.  However, I do believe it is the one place where the children will forget to go.  Plus, it will soon have a little pocket door on it the laundry room (so says the homeowner).  Out of sight, out of mind.  It’s the only technique that has ever worked for me, and is the only one that is likely to work until the kids get older.

So I believe I am about to migrate my things again and become the “witch under the stairs.”  Like some kind of creepy Wes Craven movie.  Might be kinda cool.

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Posted August 16, 2012 by Jessica in Uncategorized

3 responses to “A migration

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  1. Or…the cupboard under the stairs like Harry Potter? Probably a better visual, anyway…;-) Glad the new house is more peaceful! Yay for good neighbors and safe streets for your wee ones!

  2. Having to shrink my sacred space down drastically recently… I can say it kinda sucks. Like a longing for more. and yet at the same time I was and am still so grateful to have any space at all.

  3. Best wishes in your new home, Jessica! I am sure whichever spot you settle on, it will be divine and magical!

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