The view from the floor

View from the floor
 beautiful in a new way

Written last night:
I have been considering leaving this hotel and sleeping on the floor of my new place --  leaving every morning before the painters arrive.  Really. I’m holding myself back, but it’s a possibility. I hate staying in this expensive hotel where I feel trapped. Might as well feel trapped in my own unfinished place. 

So you see, I’m still crazy.

I am seething with impatience. But have to remember that our original plan was to leave Tallahassee right about now and stay in a hotel for a week or so while work on the condo finished up. This past weekend was the scheduled date for our Tallahassee Estate Sale. What changed everything was that the house sold so quickly and I had to be out and therefore felt I had to be in my new home in Sacramento. I guess I thought everything else would speed up accordingly. Also, I was fraught with sadness and not really in a planning mode.

So now I’m beginning to stir and wonder: why the heck am I in a hotel? 

I can hear Clark telling me to relax, not worry, and everything will be all right. He wouldn’t want me to sleep in borrowed blankets on a hard wood floor. (Got to admit, something about this appeals to me even as I talk sense against it.)

I am eager to have a regular life again, theoretically, at least. Yet I know slow is the way to go. 

Speaking of normal, this morning I exercised, biked for 20 minutes, and read the paper. Later, I wanted to spend time adding music and art to my Sacramento life. I want to listen to music while doing those boring repetitions to strengthen my leg. So I got familiar with music apps and fussed with trying to remember my Apple password. I’ve got more to do, but I may become one of these walking, bobbing people with earphones. I’ve always wondered what they’re listening to.

In the afternoon I Uber-ed to the Crocker Art Museum, which is just a few blocks from my new home. I signed up as a new member, then cruised the exhibit of modern glass art (I’ll be back again), and had bacon-lentil soup in the museum’s casual restaurant. I’m so happy the museum is close! It was crowded with people of all ages; it's got lots of classes and its literature seems open and sensitive to the community. 

Then I walked the shady few blocks to my new home. I just wanted to touch my place again. There was nothing different from when I saw it Friday afternoon, except that today I was alone. The first thing I noticed was how I love the north light. It was gentle through the big sliding glass doors in every room — no intense late-afternoon sunlight. I don’t want to hide the windows with curtains, so  I've got to find simple blackout shades so I can have overnight guests. Yes, I’m making decorating decisions: could be dangerous! (Thanks, Mary, for your advice!)

In the condo, there was nowhere but the floor to sit; it was pleasant down there. I leaned against the wall by the living room window, and wondered what it will be like with no birds and butterflies right outside. Then, quickly, I felt quite relaxed in my new home. I imagined furniture placement and dreamed of what I'll cook in the kitchen, what I’ll paint in the studio. I inhabited all three main rooms, just sitting by their windows for a while. I guess you could say I took possession. 

Then I Uber-ed to the hotel. The driver told me the parking attendants here don’t like Uber to pull into the empty spaces before the hotel. The taxis pay them bribes, he said, and Uber doesn’t.  So he pulled up and let me out just before the hotel sidewalk began.

Floor view of living area and dust machine

Glass at the Crocker
After I took this shot, a guard I had not noticed tapped my shoulder and said photos are not allowed.  "Oh, my! I've already taken it!" I chuckled. "I know," he said, "I was waiting  until you did before I told you."