One of these days my house is going to be clean and the
shades won't be broken.
I know I say that all the time. I've only been living here for years, and
this place still needs new shades since the temporary paper shades that I have
been trying to keep in the windows gave up years ago. The strings have snapped off, so I have to
jerry-rig most of the shades. This place
also needs some new curtains. Artwork on
the walls would be nice, too. And
speaking of the walls, I am so tired of the yellow that's painted on them. I am a huge fan of pure white
semi-gloss. I suppose I could paint if I
wanted to, but I don't want to.
Here's the deal: I
don't own it.
I know, I know; I should at least make it my own while
living here, and I'm working on that, slowly but surely. I cannot help thinking that this place isn't
mine, I'm a tenant at will, I could be booted out (or decide to leave) at any moment.
But still. I should
do something with it.
It has a great location, parking for three cars (in single
file, though), a semi-private patio, and right now my neighbors on both sides
are extremely quiet. I live in an
attached townhouse with no sound-board in between me and my neighbors on the
left, and the neighbors on the right who
are not attached might as well be as their front door and side windows are only
ten feet from mine. I can walk to
anywhere from here -- stores, schools, restaurants, and the train to Boston.
I could and should do so much to this place. I finally bought some cheap furniture to
replace hand-me-down stuff I had been using, and I'm trying to weed through
archaic furniture as the children move out.
There are still boxes of their stuff in the basement, all stuff that
needs to go so I can move eventually.
The rooms are small and there are no closets, but still. Still.
I do live here. It should look
like my own.
But it's not really mine.
Okay, okay. I'll
order new shades and build the new desk I bought last summer that is still in
its box and maybe weed through all the boxes of pictures and get the kids to go
through their stuff in the cellar and maybe, just maybe finally decide to
settle in after about a decade of living here.
Perhaps because we used to move so much as kids, every year
for a while, I adapted to the transient lifestyle. Or maybe I'm just making excuses. Either way, one of these days the shades will
truly be fixed and my house will be organized enough for company. Knowing my luck, the moving van will show up
the following week.
After all, I don't own it; it's not really mine. Sometimes that's a concept that's just too
elusive to accept.
