spotless

Where, O where, is my spot?  

I can show you the kitchen, the family room, the dining room, the kid’s rooms, the master bedroom and certainly the laundry room.  But where is my spot?  On some days it is easier to find hidden pictures of Waldo than it is to find a spot just for me in my own house.

 We recently moved into a new house.  In this house, I have my very own room, my study, my little get-away.  Even with the actual space available to me, I have not taken ownership of it.      I do not have the resources (time or money) to create an official place of my own.  Or at least, that is how it seems. Last weekend, as I sat working on these pages, I made a list of things I could do with no money and very little time.  

1)    clean junk/trash/other people’s stuff out of the office

2)    choose a paint color/color scheme for the room

3)    find a wallpaper for focal wall

4)    vacuum the room

5)    create a basket of necessary treasures (markers, pens, scissors, tape, chocolate)

 My mom gave me full access to our attic when I was 11 years old.  It was my hiding place.  My baby sister’s old crib became a little couch for me.  Some old lamps and suitcases made an eclectic reading area.  Once in a while, I invited a friend (or a brother, if he was on his best behavior) to visit, but most of the time, it was just for me—to read, to think, to figure out who I was in this new phase of my life.

When I was up in that attic, I was not concerned with the perfect décor for my space.  I was delighted at the junk I could arrange and re-arrange into a cozy corner where I could be whatever I wanted to be.

In order for me to truly inhabit this new space of mine in my grown up world, I had to take on that same perspective I had as a child.  In one corner, I have a bookshelf.  Each shelf houses a different aspect of my life.  By the window, I have my desk (inherited by my husband’s grandmother).  We happened to have an extra mattress that is now piled high with a quilt from my grandmother and the pink fairy sheets that my daughter has outgrown. 

Sunday afternoon, I opened my windows, listened to the rain and had a rest on my lounge chair.  My room is not what I hope it will be, nowhere close to perfection, but it is comfortable and peaceful—which is exactly the kind of spot I need right now.

What steps (big or small) have you taken toward designing your own spot?