I live in a very nice 2BR condo on the top floor of a very nice building. The neighborhood is terrific. While I long to redo the bathroom someday, this is a perfectly adequate home.
It's not the home I shop for, though.
Right now I'm charging my brand-new Roomba. This place is not so big that I shouldn't be able to vacuum it myself. I just wanted a Roomba.
I have a catalog right here called Art & Artifacts. I can't part with it because I love so many of the items in it. Like the Chicken Coop Cubbies. These vintage cubbies are great for storing all kinds of stuff, and this condo is certainly overrun by stuff. And the sage green color would look great in here. Except it measures 34" x 30" and I have absolutely nowhere to put it. (Too much stuff, wouldn't you know.) There's a limestone serenity angel in here that is enchanting, but I don't have a garden. In the Sundance Catalog, I came upon a bronze bed that is just too intense and cool. It doesn't match any of my bedroom furniture, though. My furniture is perfectly serviceable, I chose it myself and have no real desire to change it. I just wish I had an additional bedroom that I could decorate around this divine bronze bed.
What does it mean that I gaze at items I can't afford or can't use? Does hanging onto these catalogs hold me back, weigh me down with paper and keep me from organizing my surroundings and getting on with my life? Or am I just indulging in harmless daydreams?
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
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