Coming off the high of a “new” kitchen I am seriously considering redoing my bedroom. And when I say “redoing” I mean – doing something. Painting, Shabby Chic-ing, Wallpapering the ceiling. Something. For the last two and a half years it has been a place to sleep and change. There is no life. No Me in there. Green walls left over from the previous occupants. A bed, some nasty furniture and an ironing board smack in the middle that serves no purpose but to hold transitional stuff.
I suppose that for the past two and a half years I’ve looked at this little apartment as temporary. A stop in between on the way to somewhere else. Somewhere else – like marriage. Maybe that’s at the heart of it. I hoped to marry. I hope to marry. And Move. Or at least expand. Or at the very least, move out of that bedroom.
But here I am, ready to own it. It’s my place. I need to Make it My Place. A place I want to be. A dwelling.
dwell [dwɛl] vb dwells, dwelling, dwelt [dwɛlt], dwelled (intr)
1. Formal, literary to live as a permanent resident