Due to a clerical error my Glamping plans fell through this weekend. Instead of asking for my shifts back at the restaurant I gave myself a little staycation. I went out to a show, then the next night I went out dancing. Tonight, I’m considering busing down to SE to a queer night at the AALTO for more socializing. I am held back due to feeling very comfortable in my bed. I have been in bed all day. I am not sick. I am not upset. I’m not even that hung over. I needed a day with myself.
I’m fortunate enough to stay at my friend Catherine’s house all week while she is out Glamping. I’ve taken to cooking breakfast and dinner for myself. Tomorrow morning I will sweep and tidy up for their return. I enjoy making note of the small things that happen at each place I’m staying. For example, this house has a lot of beautiful art, the bathtub has a plastic slip protector on it that freaks me out, the backyard has ice sculptures in it from a recent Fire and Ice party, and I didn’t figure out where the thermostat was until this morning. Also, there are rows and rows of collected cigarette cartons lining the kitchen walls.
At my previous house (the Hawthorne House) we couldn’t wear shoes inside so I would sit ont the plushly carpeted stairs and take my recycled materials shoes off and rush through the kitchen then through the bathroom to get into the bedroom I was staying. That bedroom had an altar with photos of the Dalai Lama, Ammachi, Mother Theresa and even though I’m pretty sure I’m making this up I’m gonna go with it anyway… Albert Einstein.
The house I was staying at before that was also in SE. It is owned by a Tibetan man and has a chicken coop in it’s front yard. My friend who I was staying with has a cat who shows dominance by perching on my belongings and has a bathroom that rivals the size of his kitchen which rivals the size of his bedroom.
Before that I was staying in home office/basement. The futon was unruly yet comfortable and the vent was above my head and sang breathy Barbara Streisand songs.
Before that I was on Mississippi st sleeping near an altar to a passed loved one the light in that room made me feel like I was from overseas and hosteling at the crust punk hilton.
Before that I was frantically trying to clean a room I was about to move out of for 6-8 weeks.