Unhappiness with my former place spurred me to move. This new place where I've moved appealed primarily because it was Not There.
It turns out, the neighborhood's also nice in itself. People are so friendly, I thought it might be Stepford. I don’t think so though. It’s just a place with low population density, with lots of little homes that regular people can afford and still have money leftover for planting flowers.
(There’s a little place a couple blocks away listed at $180k. It's run down, but that price would barely buy you a condo in my old neighborhood.)
Jim and Merle run the hardware store--they advised me to put my paint roller in the fridge if I'm going to use it again the next day; Kelly, a waitress at Buster's, grew up in the neighborhood and chose to stay--I'll like it here, she said; Dan, who owns the coffee shop, would like to move to Key West but that's too expensive; and Olga at the bakery, from Russia, sold me cinnamon-sugar donuts--75¢ each.
The street I live on dead ends three blocks down, at Lake Hiawatha,
so only locals use it. I stood in the intersection this rainy morning to take this photo of no traffic.
I'd have been roadkill if I did that on my old street.
My room is starting to be nice too.
The paint that looked like Band-Aid wet dried into an unexpected, handsome Captain Kirk Gold. (The paint color's name is Belgian Waffle, which could be one of Kirk’s nicknames.)
I went to IKEA and got a gray duvet cover and drapes with wavy lines in waffle & coal (my names). The chair is from IKEA too––I rescued it from the alley long ago.
It's like I'm recreating an IKEA showroom. The Waffle Room. Not very imaginative, but I don't care. As Lucky Jim said, “Nice things are nicer than nasty ones.”
Waffles are nice. So is not being woken up by people fighting or weeping.
I'm already tired of being handy though.
When I was thinking about moving into this house with a yard, I pictured myself doing home repairs and gardening.
Now I've done the teensiest bit, I remember how I don't have the patience for those activities. They're satisfying, I guess, once they're done, but I just don't care that much.
I woke up this morning wondering, Why should I bother to finish painting over the primer? I've barely had time to read a book!
It turns out, the neighborhood's also nice in itself. People are so friendly, I thought it might be Stepford. I don’t think so though. It’s just a place with low population density, with lots of little homes that regular people can afford and still have money leftover for planting flowers.
(There’s a little place a couple blocks away listed at $180k. It's run down, but that price would barely buy you a condo in my old neighborhood.)
Jim and Merle run the hardware store--they advised me to put my paint roller in the fridge if I'm going to use it again the next day; Kelly, a waitress at Buster's, grew up in the neighborhood and chose to stay--I'll like it here, she said; Dan, who owns the coffee shop, would like to move to Key West but that's too expensive; and Olga at the bakery, from Russia, sold me cinnamon-sugar donuts--75¢ each.
The street I live on dead ends three blocks down, at Lake Hiawatha,
so only locals use it. I stood in the intersection this rainy morning to take this photo of no traffic.
I'd have been roadkill if I did that on my old street.
My room is starting to be nice too.
The paint that looked like Band-Aid wet dried into an unexpected, handsome Captain Kirk Gold. (The paint color's name is Belgian Waffle, which could be one of Kirk’s nicknames.)
I went to IKEA and got a gray duvet cover and drapes with wavy lines in waffle & coal (my names). The chair is from IKEA too––I rescued it from the alley long ago.
It's like I'm recreating an IKEA showroom. The Waffle Room. Not very imaginative, but I don't care. As Lucky Jim said, “Nice things are nicer than nasty ones.”
Waffles are nice. So is not being woken up by people fighting or weeping.
When I was thinking about moving into this house with a yard, I pictured myself doing home repairs and gardening.
Now I've done the teensiest bit, I remember how I don't have the patience for those activities. They're satisfying, I guess, once they're done, but I just don't care that much.
I woke up this morning wondering, Why should I bother to finish painting over the primer? I've barely had time to read a book!
“Waffle” would be a good color for toast. “Coal,” not so much. :)
ReplyDeleteI wish you a happy reading time in the Waffle Room! (and, I hope wishing you happinness through reading doesn't sound too much like "bringing coals to Newcastle")
ReplyDeleteNice warm colour, and lovely with that blue Sounds like you've moved to the right place!
ReplyDeleteThe drapes you chose go very nicely! Looking good!
ReplyDeleteonly 2 verifications this time, Whew! back to normal.