The new home will be better. Its layout actually fits in with my morning routine in such a way that it will help me maintain the discipline I’ve established since 2008. While I lose the protection of a large, anonymous apartment building I gain certain freedoms by simply having less obstacles between going in and going out that door.
I will wake up in southern light. I can get up, do my morning ablutions, and go to what Mike insists on calling the library ((because he needs no man cave he doesn’t really grasp my need for a priestess cave)) – my ritual room – and complete my morning pages. From there I may speak morning prayers, do any light setting and meditation, take a moment to check my chakras. (Perhaps I should obtain a writing desk – it goes with the library motif.) The first flight of stairs, breakfast, and then further down to our office to work. Once we get the treadmill – or at least set up the Wii downstairs – I can take periodic breaks to exercise in bad weather, and in good weather I can ascend those stairs, launch myself out into the world for a walk with or without the camera and return without having to duck past the apartment manager. I am choosing to remain optimistic that our new neighbors are chill and mostly responsibly aging hippies. I suppose we’re the new neighbors. They’re probably curious/nervous about us.
The living room has adequate if not perfect dance space – I have ambitions of a proper stereo or at least some kind of surround sound system. The kitchen has what I need to work with it – I am already grudgingly warming up to the gas stove despite my own strong preference for electric stoves. (Perhaps we can just have the electrician remove those stupid phone jacks, fix the security system somewhere that makes sense and doesn’t deny the kitchen an outlet.) The fireplace and living room space gives Mike and I the sense of companionship we seem to gravitate towards everywhere we live – and still allows me the deep privacy I need with the library upstairs. I’ll tell you just about anything I’m thinking, but by gods, I need some time alone where I don’t have to explain anything.
Part of my resistance to moving is that it’s winter. I’m not bothered by the “oh crap, there’s snow” part of the move. That was going to happen sooner or later. I had really hoped to permanently move someplace that it doesn’t snow – Mike talks a big game about liking the seasons, but that’s crap. Early humans gravitated towards the equator for a reason.
But it’s also that I have really enjoyed living in this apartment. Its flaws could be worked around. Its modern conveniences freed my hands to write. Its skyline view has long been a point of pride, a prize, something wonderful we found in a much overlooked space. While I will miss the convenience of all life being on one level, I could spout off something virtuous and annoying about the exercise the stairs can give me. Really, the laundry being on the bottom floor and the clothes storage on the top is the only major flaw of the place. Of course, the closets will need work – that’s more my own flaw, my acquisitive tendency with clothing, my interest in the body as a color palate. Fuck that – it’s no flaw. My interest in fashion is one of the most intellectually subversive and powerful aspects of my personality.
I’m a little disappointed that we’re not changing neighborhoods – Mike is too. We’re both explorers and now we have nothing new to explore. The far end of Northeast does not change as rapidly as Uptown or even Dinkytown. This neighborhood needs a botanica; right now the Carniceria does a sort of half-hearted job of selling candles and loteria games but that’s it – and I find I prefer botanicas to white person occult supply stores. Less crystal bullshit, zero historical or academic posturing. More about direct needs. I’ll have to look at why the one resonates with me more than the other – perhaps because I’ve experienced more direct survival issues than most people at my place in the socio-economic pyramid. I’m not anti-intellectual; I thrived in academics. I think it’s just an aversion to the twee and pretentious.
I’m also trying to decide whether to blog about the safety magic I’m performing on my home. Dion Fortune would tell me to keep it all a secret – and I have pissed off a few magically inclined people that have never understood that anger isn’t power, it just feels like power. The ego as a magical tool is great when you clean it regularly but in most cases it has a really short battery life. Sadly, it still spits when it recharges and addiction to it alone can keep some folks alive. Not good alive, just alive.
The bathtub is also a feature I’m looking forward to, even if I’ll only use it once a week to keep the water bills down.
This will be good. It also sets me up to plan ahead for buying a condo somewhere warm – snowbirding is always insanely expensive, but perhaps I can work around it by planning far, far ahead.