Be It Ever So Humble ........

.......... there's no place like home.
I'm disturbingly obsessed with my own apartment. Those of you who have seen it in various states of disorder are like, 'really?' but really, when I am home and have time, the first thing I do is clean. Ok, not quite. First I put on some music, then I fix myself a drink and sit in my chair with a magazine from the mail-to-be-sorted pile and thumb through it leisurely until I've finished my drink. If the magazine really grabs my attention, I might read the whole thing, or go soak in the tub for a lovely hour with it. Then I clean.

I love the feeling I get when I get home. I have to slide in the front door, unless I'm in the mood (and right shoes) for a brisk jog, because Maximus likes to dart out the front door and he KNOWS when I'm coming home and WAITS with his nose pressed against the crack.

Once I slide in, past Bob the reindeer (No, I don't have a pet reindeer. I have a roughly three foot tall wood one with a long story behind it. A wooden one that now wears an eyepatch, and reminds me to invest in myself and not in the approval of others. Like I said, it's a long story, and I'll tell the story of Bob the reindeer someday.), I kick off my shoes into the shoe basket.

I like the set up of my living room. I like that it doesn't revolves around a tv. In fact, when I suggest watching a movie, most people look around like, "There's a tv in here?" That said Vincini, my tv, can be fairly easily seen from the entire room.
I like that my 'stereo system' is entirely invisible.
I love the symphony of bird songs that comes from unexpected corners of the house.
I love being greated by the sight of all my books.
I love my warm red couches.
I love my happy little beta fish, Pacific.
I love how the shabby chairs I've picked up here and there are the comfy ones, and you can tell because that's where the cats sleep. My cats have great taste.
I love how the first thing you see when you walk in is my bookcase of all my treasured book friends.
And I love (my) lamp.
Old picture, but like 'Rezzie and her feet, I expect ooooooh and ahhhhs at the home-ishness of my living room.

I love coming home and knowing that I can be alone if I want to.
Or that a social chat is only as far as my balcony rail.

I love a million things in my kitchen. Somedays after I've washed all my dishes and put them away in their snug little cupboards, I just take a moment to look at them in all their mixed/matched/perfect-togetherness and smile.
I love the bowls Bunny bought for me, because if there are two things in this world that Bunny KNOWS, it's dishes and me.
I love the handful of old silver spoons I got from my grandmother, all different and all loved.
I love my widdle baby french press coffeemaker, Elise.
I love my oven mitts that fall down into whatever I'm cooking but remind me every time with a smile of the friends they were named for, Paul and Stretch, because you know how men always seem to know when you're cooking and drop by then.
I love my word magnets that you can create poetry with, but hardly anyone does because the sheer number of words just overwhelms you and you keep finding words you wanna use but can't figure out how to put them together, but it's the most fun you can have NOT writing poetry, just rolling lovely words around in your head.
I love the hooks my little ikea dishdrainer hangs on, because I set it up myself. I'm very proud of my few little handy skills.
I love the picture over my table, the one that reminds me of Bunny.

I love my widdle bathroom. Even though it's so hard to open the door, because I insist on having a bookcase of towels and bubble bath and magazines in there. I love how small it is (the sink is actually right outside it in my bedroom) because it's easy to keep it warm during a bath, so I can soak in there FOREVER. And I do. With books, magazines, music playing, I even bring snacks and drinks in there. After all the stupid drama with replacing the tub and shower, I must admit I love the white marble and my pretty little shower curtain.
I love the map of water use and facts that I hung over my shower. I've almost memorized everything on it, so pretty soon I'll hang something new up, like migratory patterns of birds or a star map. It's a great easy way to learn.

I love my big bedroom. Even though I arranged the furniture indifferently when I moved in, and haven't changed it since, I like it. I need curtains on my closet door. It had those sliding door things but I HATE THOSE WITH ALL THE FIERY PASSION OF HELL, so I had the landlord take them away when I moved in.

I love pulling the netting around me on my bed and just sitting there, steaming in the heat of my own thoughts.

I love my star lights and my big round moon-looking hanging lamps. Yes, my apartment is brought to you by ikea. Ikea loves me.

I love the view from my bedroom window. It's a lucky view. Not many apartments in my complex really have any sort of view because the valley floor is flat and we're surrounded by other apartment complexes, but when you look out my window it's like a parted sea of cheap housing, up to the surrounding hills and the lovely Mt Helix, who's cross on top just barely snags the morning fog layer as it retreats and who's eucalyptus trees stand black against the sunset in the evenings.

I love that my cats love this view as much as I do, and Dulce perchs on the laundry basket and Maximus on the seat of my bike and they gaze out, thinking cat secrets, I guess. Something too ancient and pagan for human minds, I'm sure.

I love that most of the beauty of my apartment comes from being loved by me.

That it WANTS to be loved and fussed over.

That it loves me back.