a million thoughts
running through my mind.
i dream of my other home very often. sometimes on consecutive nights, sometimes twice a week, sometimes once a week. always crystal clear, everytime.
i expect no one to make sense of the following, or even to finish reading it. because these are memories of my home in fragments. extremely disjointed fragments. in fact, i would discourage you from reading it because i believe you'll find it extremely boring.
the clang of trams and the crisp cool air. the slanted shadows in my pitched roof bedroom. the stream of sunlight through my tall glass doors. the feel of smooth timber as i clamber down my tiny spiral staircase. patting the life-sized pikachu on the head as i pass it on the stairs. the chill of a wintry morning through my flannel PJ's, as i heat up various contraptions in my kitchenette to make breakfast. the whirr of my oven, the glowing red ring of my electric stove, the hum of the exhaust fan. curling my finger into each metal ring which were the handles to my cabinet doors. flicking on the teevee for the morning news while feasting on bacon, eggs, mushrooms, baby spinach and potatoes. making my couch the way i make my bed, everyday. doing laundry daily even though i lived alone. shrinking my clothes in my dryer for a perfect fit. cleaning the lint (ok, i'm weird like that. i find it really fun). the rumble of the dryer as my home warms up a notch at the same time. being rudely jolted everytime the damned (loud) doorbell rings. the little square of heaven that is the skylight in my bathroom. watching rain/hail on the skylight in my bathroom. wondering when the bird shit will get washed away from the skylight in my bathroom. showering in the hottest water i could ever wish for, from a hugeass shower head like a rain-sprinkler in the strongest jets i ever wanted. stepping out of the shower cubicle into my heated bathroom. the feel of my bath mat as i curl my wet toes on it. doing sit-ups with my feet hooked under my futon bed. sliding the mirrored doors of my built-in wardrobe. climbing five flights of stairs everyday (each way) because my building had no lift. buying three weeks' groceries at a time and climbing five flights of stairs with them. the first time my roof leaked from my balcony upstairs into my lounge downstairs. sitting on my couch watching water droplets hit the basin. wondering if my neighbour downstairs was leaking too. flopping on my bed pretending i wasn't home when the neighbours came a-knocking. sitting in my beanbag corner staring at the blue lava in my lamp. peering up at the sky from that particular angle from the furry blue beanbag, or the reverse direction from my futon bed. watching the way the stars twinkle before i close my eyes for the night. my cloth blinds. the glow of my paper star lamp in the dark of the night. my bear's face against my cheek. springcleaning every saturday. picking hair out religiously from the carpet every saturday. wiping my timber floors by hand every saturday before i bought a mop. the pile of shoes under my spiral staircase. my beautiful french windows, and the friendly tree right outside. watching the city from my favourite window. the elephant and wheelbarrow opposite. echoes of laughter from strangers in the street. the glow of the blue ring on my JVC. using a crappy desk, sitting on a crappy chair, and tapping away on a crappy laptop for four years. staring into space as the 33.6 modem does its very best. cordless phone battery going flat often when i needed a long convo. cooking dinner. the simpson's at 6pm. all the evening programs after that. working my ass off while covering the coffee table with papers and dictionaries. watching the leaves wave at me from outside the windows. trying to do a pull-up while dangling between my first and second floors. watching my best pal try to do the same (and failing). having friends over for dinner. having friends over for tea. having friends over for parties that went on from thursday to sunday. sometimes monday. flopping around in blue furry house slippers. the sound i make from flopping around in blue furry house slippers. my full-sized refrigerator. filling up my full-sized refrigerator. keeping my fingers crossed daily that my $50 washing machine would troop on for just another day. fresh laundry. fresh bedsheets. washing dishes, pots and pans in the best sink ever. long-distance calls from mother. breaking down the barriers and becoming friends over that turquoise telephone. falling asleep on the couch and getting sleep paralysis. learning to overcome sleep paralysis by myself. leaving that little gap in the balcony door. closing that gap eventually and locking it up. vaccuuming the carpets with my little sharkvac. wearing my 'cooking jacket'. wriggling cold feet and hands in front of the heater. being wrapped like a cocoon in my feather and down doona. my futon bed missing two pieces, making it the lowest futon bed in the world. moving in from across the street in the dead of the night. stepping into the apartment for the first time for a viewing that was to change my life forever. setting eyes on the home i fell in love with, at first sight.
when i stood in the empty apartment, before it became my home, i knew. as i skipped across the timber floors of the first level to peer out of the nearest french window, i knew. when i peeked into the cosy attic bedroom atop the tiniest spiral staircase, i knew.
i knew this was where i could live forever.
i dream of my other home very often. sometimes on consecutive nights, sometimes twice a week, sometimes once a week. always crystal clear, everytime.
i expect no one to make sense of the following, or even to finish reading it. because these are memories of my home in fragments. extremely disjointed fragments. in fact, i would discourage you from reading it because i believe you'll find it extremely boring.
the clang of trams and the crisp cool air. the slanted shadows in my pitched roof bedroom. the stream of sunlight through my tall glass doors. the feel of smooth timber as i clamber down my tiny spiral staircase. patting the life-sized pikachu on the head as i pass it on the stairs. the chill of a wintry morning through my flannel PJ's, as i heat up various contraptions in my kitchenette to make breakfast. the whirr of my oven, the glowing red ring of my electric stove, the hum of the exhaust fan. curling my finger into each metal ring which were the handles to my cabinet doors. flicking on the teevee for the morning news while feasting on bacon, eggs, mushrooms, baby spinach and potatoes. making my couch the way i make my bed, everyday. doing laundry daily even though i lived alone. shrinking my clothes in my dryer for a perfect fit. cleaning the lint (ok, i'm weird like that. i find it really fun). the rumble of the dryer as my home warms up a notch at the same time. being rudely jolted everytime the damned (loud) doorbell rings. the little square of heaven that is the skylight in my bathroom. watching rain/hail on the skylight in my bathroom. wondering when the bird shit will get washed away from the skylight in my bathroom. showering in the hottest water i could ever wish for, from a hugeass shower head like a rain-sprinkler in the strongest jets i ever wanted. stepping out of the shower cubicle into my heated bathroom. the feel of my bath mat as i curl my wet toes on it. doing sit-ups with my feet hooked under my futon bed. sliding the mirrored doors of my built-in wardrobe. climbing five flights of stairs everyday (each way) because my building had no lift. buying three weeks' groceries at a time and climbing five flights of stairs with them. the first time my roof leaked from my balcony upstairs into my lounge downstairs. sitting on my couch watching water droplets hit the basin. wondering if my neighbour downstairs was leaking too. flopping on my bed pretending i wasn't home when the neighbours came a-knocking. sitting in my beanbag corner staring at the blue lava in my lamp. peering up at the sky from that particular angle from the furry blue beanbag, or the reverse direction from my futon bed. watching the way the stars twinkle before i close my eyes for the night. my cloth blinds. the glow of my paper star lamp in the dark of the night. my bear's face against my cheek. springcleaning every saturday. picking hair out religiously from the carpet every saturday. wiping my timber floors by hand every saturday before i bought a mop. the pile of shoes under my spiral staircase. my beautiful french windows, and the friendly tree right outside. watching the city from my favourite window. the elephant and wheelbarrow opposite. echoes of laughter from strangers in the street. the glow of the blue ring on my JVC. using a crappy desk, sitting on a crappy chair, and tapping away on a crappy laptop for four years. staring into space as the 33.6 modem does its very best. cordless phone battery going flat often when i needed a long convo. cooking dinner. the simpson's at 6pm. all the evening programs after that. working my ass off while covering the coffee table with papers and dictionaries. watching the leaves wave at me from outside the windows. trying to do a pull-up while dangling between my first and second floors. watching my best pal try to do the same (and failing). having friends over for dinner. having friends over for tea. having friends over for parties that went on from thursday to sunday. sometimes monday. flopping around in blue furry house slippers. the sound i make from flopping around in blue furry house slippers. my full-sized refrigerator. filling up my full-sized refrigerator. keeping my fingers crossed daily that my $50 washing machine would troop on for just another day. fresh laundry. fresh bedsheets. washing dishes, pots and pans in the best sink ever. long-distance calls from mother. breaking down the barriers and becoming friends over that turquoise telephone. falling asleep on the couch and getting sleep paralysis. learning to overcome sleep paralysis by myself. leaving that little gap in the balcony door. closing that gap eventually and locking it up. vaccuuming the carpets with my little sharkvac. wearing my 'cooking jacket'. wriggling cold feet and hands in front of the heater. being wrapped like a cocoon in my feather and down doona. my futon bed missing two pieces, making it the lowest futon bed in the world. moving in from across the street in the dead of the night. stepping into the apartment for the first time for a viewing that was to change my life forever. setting eyes on the home i fell in love with, at first sight.
when i stood in the empty apartment, before it became my home, i knew. as i skipped across the timber floors of the first level to peer out of the nearest french window, i knew. when i peeked into the cosy attic bedroom atop the tiniest spiral staircase, i knew.
i knew this was where i could live forever.
posted by valkyrie at 1:52 AM
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