23 February 2011


I like my space.

I like it red and dark, quiet, because there is no one else here to speak, loud, because I have the music up as far as it will go, messy, because my children have been here, clean, because they've gone again.

I like the way the stain on the bookcases I bought matches the stain of the wood on the floors. I like the way my books look when they're out of their boxes. I like the things I nailed to the walls wherever I wanted to without having to ask anybody if it was OK to put them there.

I like having no TV and a good espresso machine and excellent beer and my clothes put away. I like that I fixed the doorbell by myself and rearranged the den four times before I was happy with it.

I like that I'm here by myself but not lonely. I like it a lot.