So, I sat in my husband’s man cave for a bit. After sitting for a while, I starting organizing it. Mind you, I didn’t literally organize it. I just sat and wondered how I could recreate that essence of mine in my own setting.
While I have my own space, I realized I couldn’t recreate what I envision in my head without spending massive amounts of money remodeling it, so I appreciated the simplicity of my hubby’s room. It’s filled with what’s important to him. Now I need to figure out what is important to me in my room even thought it really wouldn’t match the connecting rooms. No, I can’t think that way. Actually, I can’t stop thinking that way.
Character flaw? In my defense, it doesn’t help that the kitchen is right behind me. And the dining room is to my left. I could add my own touches to both I suppose, but kitchens and dining rooms don’t inspire me lol. Maybe I need to dare to dream.
“What is meant by “reality”? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable—now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying.”
“It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech—and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Piccadilly. Sometimes, too, it seems to dwell in shapes too far away for us to discern what their nature is. But whatever it touches, it fixes and makes permanent. That is what remains over when the skin of the day has been cast into the hedge; that is what is left of past time and of our loves and hates.”
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