Repost from 2/9/2016
My home has changed with my new life. I have always lived in older homes and mostly I have had plenty of room. Not that our houses were fancy, just houses with lots of room. A bedroom for each child growing up and a playroom. My husband and I each had our own dressing rooms (we had plenty of rooms, just no closets). Bathroom space was ample. And, I always had an office at home. As my children left the nest we continued to keep their bedrooms intact; however, my oldest son had to contend with his room becoming my craft and sewing room when he was away. He got over it.
A little background…when I was about 15 my parents split. We had to sell our house, and my Mom and I moved into an apartment. I hated it. I wanted to be an ordinary family and live in a regular house with two regular, married-to-each-other, parents. I was devastated by all of it. I loved my family and my house and my room, and now it was gone. I loved my home. Our new apartment was very cool and probably looked super glamorous to some of my friends. I hated it. Hate hate hated it. Have I made myself clear?
Now fast forward about forty-five years…my husband wanted to keep our house; the man who could not have been less engaged in any part of our home life now wished to maintain the house on the golf course. Shocking. So, my challenge was to find a place that would work for me and allow the kids to stay at my place some of the time when they are home. Of course, I want them all of the time, but we can’t always get what we want. I started looking for an apartment that could accommodate my dog and me, visiting twenty-somethings and my office. What I found was that I would be able to have all of those things if I stacked the children in the office when they visit. Interesting concept: air mattress, son, air mattress, son, air mattress, daughter. I kept looking. It was depressing, and it felt like I was going backward rather than moving forward.
I looked for a new place in the trendiest area of my city, but there was just too much vomit on the sidewalks after Friday and Saturday nights. I love being around young people but not at 2 a.m. when the bars close.
Then the clouds opened up, and a sunbeam was shining on a small brick building in downtown. The ad said it was a loft, but I had my doubts. My search had taught me that loft is a very loose term. I walked into a unit that would be open in a few months and … I … was … home. Brick walls, exposed beams and a concrete floor…it all screamed Paula. My kind of place.
Here is how I can best describe my apartment: one of my favorite TV shows of all time is Everybody Loves Raymond. I am sure I have seen every episode numerous times and can recite many of them line for line. Ray Barone refers to the “cafegymatorium” when talking about an area of the school building. Can’t you just picture it. The long tables, with bench seating and wheels that fold up and move to the side for volleyball, then the room is reworked again that day, for the Girl Scout Talent Show that evening. That’s what my new apartment is. The all-purpose living space. I am trying to come up with a one-word description. All I have is “offlibeddin” (think Armageddon). If you have any suggestions, let me know.
