Today should have been an easy-going, mello day. Wasn't. Was extreme tedium. I didn't escape the office until 8pm. But I'm home and things are good. I'm happy to be home. That's a big thing for me, to be comfortable here in this house. I haven't, until a month ago, taken mental possession of it, even though we've lived here over a year. It's a rock to carry and a sanctuary at the same time.
I resented this house for most of last year. It didn't deserve it, it stood, clean and new, waiting for me to reach back. It was too new for me. Too bright and too cold. It's tract housing, nice, but still California Contemporary. It's like all the houses in Irvine (City of Beige) that I appraise...they are similar, some the same, but lonely and emtpy despite their commoness.
I didn't want the family over, the house embarrassed me with it's grandness. I was hateful to the house. I wrote poems rueing the mortgage and I stood looking out the back door, despising the lush grass that had to be cut every week. I wouldn't unpack and decorate.
And still, the house stood, dignified silent, ignoring me. Good thing. I eventually got over it. Things came from their boxes, blinking at the light and found homes in corners and on walls. The hearth held fires and laughter wove new tapestries for the cold walls.
I'm glad the house is more stubborn than I. I've realised the benefit of doing and I've learned more about patience and acceptence here. I'm learning to BE and be okay with that. I think they call that "settling".
I resented this house for most of last year. It didn't deserve it, it stood, clean and new, waiting for me to reach back. It was too new for me. Too bright and too cold. It's tract housing, nice, but still California Contemporary. It's like all the houses in Irvine (City of Beige) that I appraise...they are similar, some the same, but lonely and emtpy despite their commoness.
I didn't want the family over, the house embarrassed me with it's grandness. I was hateful to the house. I wrote poems rueing the mortgage and I stood looking out the back door, despising the lush grass that had to be cut every week. I wouldn't unpack and decorate.
And still, the house stood, dignified silent, ignoring me. Good thing. I eventually got over it. Things came from their boxes, blinking at the light and found homes in corners and on walls. The hearth held fires and laughter wove new tapestries for the cold walls.
I'm glad the house is more stubborn than I. I've realised the benefit of doing and I've learned more about patience and acceptence here. I'm learning to BE and be okay with that. I think they call that "settling".
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_sarah_:
Yup... that's me, but the pic is a few years old. You can see a larger version of it in My Pics.
_sarah_:
It always takes me a while to settle into a new place, but I find that putting my art and candles and such up as soon as possible helps make it home a lot quicker than leaving things in boxes.