I agreed to be part of a documentary film-maker’s exploration of tiny homes. In preparation for her visit today, I spent several hours straightening and cleaning my house. This proved fortuitous. Two sets of tiny home tourists happened by Angel’s Haven yesterday. I could proudly invite them into my space and accommodate their comfort and interest.
When I awakened this morning, I had a message from the prospective film-maker to our group cancelling her appearance today. Putting aside mild annoyance, I acknowledged her note and rose to make coffee. I looked around my home. The potential of its appearing in a movie had inspired me to make small adjustments and to accentuate features of Angel’s Haven which please me. I had been happy to allow strangers into the space without worrying that I had not adequately cleaned or that something looked amiss.
With Angel’s Haven looking so spiff, I decided to make my own video, an updated tour for my YouTube channel of how the place looks after seven months of living. In truth, I do keep it fairly clean and organized. Tidying a 200-square-foot space takes much less time. Perhaps I’m not a true minimalist, but I no longer make purchases which add to the clutter. I don’t need more tools or trinkets, though each visit to Kansas City has given me a chance to rummage through the shrinking pile in the storage unit. I make happy discoveries, return with three or four additions, and spend gleeful moments working the cherished finds into my decor.
I sat in my rocking chair this morning, looking at how I’ve arranged the space in which I write. I can gaze out the window from my desk. I see beloved faces and artwork from every vantage point. A friend could come and sit reading while I work. Everything lies close at hand, bathed in sunlight. This alcove reflects the essence of my existence — a place for creativity, a spot for relaxing, and mementos of my life and of those whom I have loved.
These days, when people ask me what I do, I tell them that I write.
“Oh, what do you write,” they ask.
“I’m working on a book,” I reply. “And I have a couple of blogs.”
They usually turn away. They avoid my eyes. Most folks expect to hear that one writes for an online journal, a television show, movies, or a newspaper. The world has always looked askance at those of us with works in progress, like the half-finished painting on an easel or the page in the platen. I accept their skepticism. Sometimes one must take a different view of any situation. From where I sat this morning, casting my eyes over the writing loft, I understood the direction of my life. I convinced myself. That suffices to keep me moving forward.
It’s the twenty-ninth day of the fifty-fifth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.
A panoramic view of my writing loft seen from my rocking chair this morning. Light streams into the loft. Cool air dances through the space. Tres bien!
Yes!!!!
Tell Ernest Hemingway that………….