I'm sitting in the loft of my new "home," a Chalet-style house in the woods. This past weekend, my landlady asked me think about buying this house. On Tuesday, the movers brought my furniture and looms and yarn and fabric from my house in Knoxville. The chalet feels more like home now, with all my stuff around me, but it's clear my stuff doesn't go in a chalet. My furniture is big and dark and old on purpose. I love my stuff. I have relaxed a lot since my stuff surrounds me, but I will not buy this house. It will never be home, in the true sense of the word. It's modern and white and not very well built, with plastic bath tubs and slick vinyl floors and stained Berber carpet. It's not energy efficient or situated well in the lot. It ain't me!
But my studio is big and light and airy. Now that it's getting chilly outside, the loft is warm and comfy, not blazing hot as it was in the summer. Jenny and Tootsie have been here for a while, but Jennifer just got here, and is still not put all together. A friend is going to make a top tray for Tootsie to keep the shafts from jumping out the top.
Outside, the house is surrounded by trees, and kind of in a gully, without any views. I think once the leaves are gone, I'll be able to see a little farther, but for now, it's lovely with all the golden light through the autumn leaves.
I'm off to Murphy this morning to vote early, get new contacts and get out of the gully for a little while. For now, this chalet is "home," and I'm in this community to stay for a while, and I will keep my eye out for my true home here.
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