Coffee In Bed

Dear Readers, 

This is one of those days that I am grateful for singlehood. I live in New York City, it’s Saturday, rainy, chilly and cloudy. The small apartment complex I reside in is unusually peaceful. I slept late ( 12 noon). I woke up to my cat, Hamlet angry ūüė° cries for food. I decided this is the perfect day to spend in my bedroom. I prepared my coffee tray, grabbed the laptop, bottles of water, and positioned myself in the middle of my bed. 

Oh, the joy of peace, coffee in bed, and living alone affords me the space and quiet time to recover from the wear and tears from the outside world. At 57, I would appreciate a partner who understands how to benefit from quiet time. I’ve experienced marriage once and it didn’t afford me quiet time. I’ve lived with roommates and don’t care to revisit those horror stories. My last relationship two years ago, I was engaged and lived with my fiance for 30 days. I realized it wasn’t going to work. 

He did not understand quiet time. He had big screened Tvs in every room except the bathroom. He woke up making noise, talking, talking, he was 6 feet 2 and had a loud voice. He misunderstood my need for silence as anger, I moved out in a hurry into a roommate situation. It was a spacious apartment, clean and bright. But my roommate a tall handsome man in his 60s and a retired carpenter, was an early riser  7 days a week, and he was VERY noisy. I endured living there for a year, over time he caught onto my need for quiet time and toned down the noise.

Dec 13, 2019, I moved into my own space. The apartment complex has three floors and unfortunately for me I am on the first floor. I have noisy neighbors who walk like beasts. My landlord has done an amazing job of helping to keep the peace, so on the rare days of silence I enjoy coffee in bed and movies. 

After the fiasco with the last relationship, I’ve been paying attention to how I enjoy living something I’ve never done previously. Here’s what I learned. I like being alone 75 percent and the other 25 percent,  I like to cook and entertain friends and family, and after two years of being free,  I don’t want any males in my living space, and there are no plans for dating in the near future. I’ve rediscovered the joys of sleeping alone, the benefits of having my own bathroom, and the delight of coming home to silence.

This has been a great weekend starting with Friday, the weather was amazing, warm, sunny and all the snow has melted. I cooked and cleaned, and  I had a visitor who brought me my first house warming gift, a glass chess set. The food, wine and company was just what I needed to end such a glorious day. So, here I am in the glory of a beautiful, mellow, silent Saturday, now this is what it means by living in the moment.  

I hope you are enjoying your weekend.

Home Sweet Home?

aromatherapy bloom blossom bright

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Dear Readers,

when you open the door of your home and welcome people in and say, ” make yourself at home” are you being truthful or saying this out courtesy. The late two years I’ve moved four times living¬† in other people’s home. I live in New York City and the rents are out of control.¬† Most people are forced into a roommate situation.¬† Since the age of 30 I have lived in my own space with a small dog, or a cat and I once had a bird. I am 55 and often feel humiliated about my situation.

Each roommate situation it is suggested that I ” make myself at home” before I go on it is noteworthy to say that I am quiet, very neat I like every in it place. I burn scented candles, keep a dust free home and never walk inside with my shoes on. I think of home as a safe, clean, peaceful and happy environment to relax, rejuvenate and mentally and emotionally reset to cope with the struggles of the” Grind”.

Now, back to ” make yourself at home” in each place I have resided there wasn’t the feeling of home due to the consistent reminders that I wasn’t at home. People have a tendency to drop hints or suggestions about how things are done in ” their home”. For example, I have an unusual schedule meaning, I don’t have a Monday to Friday 9 to 5. I often leave home early and return late. When I enter I do so quietly, and on my days off I enjoy sleeping late because I don’t often experience the luxury of staying in bed. I am often asked questions like, what time did I get in? Or hear statements like, oh your home today. When I cook I like to do so alone with music and a glass of wine. Lately, I have had company in the kitchen watching what I do and questioned why I do what I do the way I do it. As a result I spend less time in the kitchen. I bite my lip, smile and practice patience because I am at the mercy of the homeowner. I am often angry and question why do people willingly invite others into their homes, collect rent then proceed to be a dictator by creating an uncomfortable environment.

To my readers, people become displaced from their homes for various reasons. In my case my last landlord sold the house I was living in and

didn’t grant me time to find another place. So, my journey has taken me two years and four different roommates. Gone is the feeling of ” Home sweet Home”. I long to feel stable and at peace. I missed curling up on my sofa and binge watching NCIS, while eating popcorn and drinking wine. I want the privacy of my own bathroom and kitchen. I miss having a pet, burning candles, listening to jazz and just doing as I damn well please.

I am keeping my fingers crossed I‚Äôve been promised a one bedroom apartment that I can afford by the New Year 2020. What a glorious way to start the year in my own space. As you read this here is something to ponder, think about a time in your life when circumstances changed, think about the discomfort, the feeling of humiliation and the disbelief that life has dealt you a curveball that you weren’t ready for. Think about how you wanted to be treated versus how you were treated. In all of my living situations I was a means to an end. I do take comfort that my current situation gives me the peace of mind and space to reboot. My room has become my sanctuary, its larger, bright and allows me to be comfortable until I can unpack and hang my ” Home Sweet Home” sign.ūüíĖ

Reflection

Dear readers,

It was August 1, six years ago when I moved into my first one bedroom apartment after living in a studio for 14 years. I had a few boxes, old furniture, 100 books, high hopes and big dreams. I was happy. Today is a very sad day. I feel like I am burying an old friend, I’m being forced out. Not because I am a bad tenant I live in a ¬†private house the landlord abruptly announced, ” The house is being rented, I’m moving my family out-of-state you have to go.” It took me a month to get over the shock. Three months later, my boxes are packed, I am leaving with new furniture, ¬†fifty books, ¬†and more shoes and clothes than I had six years ago.

I live In New York City finding an affordable apartment is not easy and that’s saying it nicely. I have arranged to put my tbelongings ¬†in storage. while living with my long time best girl friendand her 22 year old son.

During the six years in my beautiful one bedroom complete with back yard, I’ve met and dated some horrible men, and made poor financial decisions. I’ve lost some weight, gained the weight, lost the weight and gain the weight back. Studied ¬†for one years at Bible school and received my Ministry Licences. Started my first Blog, wrote and published my first Novel, ” The Waiting Game” on amazon, and entered two short shorties in a contest. ¬†December 2016 completed a Novela¬†” A Different Flavor of Love” so to be out on amazon. I’m ¬†currently revising a Novel I wrote with a college friend to be published next year. I have a second job$$$$$$$$$$$$$ ¬†my income is higher than is was six years ago. I auditioned ¬†for the New York City down chorus, nailed it, this my third season with them. Its amazing I am leaving during the same season I moved in six years ago.¬†And ¬†the real big change I cut my locks after having them for 30 years.

I am sad, angry and feel betrayed. I blame myself. I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t focused. I was too busy try to be a part of a family that wasn’t mine. I feel ashamed, I’m educated, intelligent, ¬†passionate about living life and trying new things. Oh, and I’m an amazing teacher. At the age of 53, I have to put my belongings in storage and live in someone else space.

Where do I go from here? Forward, step by step, day by day. taking on one task at a time. Bury myself in work and my writings. UNTIL I FIND MY OWN SPACE.