An entire assortment of lessons learned... pt I.

After the last week or so of nonstop go-go-go (with the final note of it all being the news a friend is shipping off to Iraq for a month, sigh), I realized the best sanity saver is to avoid deep thoughts and chase the shiny, which for me will always be How To Occupy Space. That is: when you rent, and can't tear down that wall or tear out that cabinet (as much as you want to), how else can you squeeze 40lbs of storage into a 5lb sack?

And if I hear so much as a whisper of anyone making comments about rearranging foldable seating on any kind of naval vessel, I will be unleashing a serious can of Virgo whomp-ass.

*clears throat*

First stop on the Virgo express is the all-important rule: the most neglected storage possibilities are always at the edges. Also known as: lay down on the floor and look, and then roll over on your back and stare at the ceiling. (And here you thought I was just being lazy and zoning.) The two places in any house, in any room, least used are ( closest to the floor, and closest to the ceiling, and thus I bring you: long-distance ideas of top, bottom, and what's in-between. )

pt II... collected for your perusal.

*waits*

Okay. Yes, I know! It IS a stereotype for Virgos -- but it's the damn truth! We need to be aware of the importance of home as sacred space, as a place that's both protective and inviolate and removed from what's-out-there. And, as long as we feel like intruders or permanent guests or not-really-here in undecorated/uncommanded homes/spaces, we never truly relax. That makes it doubly hard to exert ourselves when we need to, when we look around and every single thing reminds us that we're not truly in our own space.

As humans, we do crave enclosure, boundaries on our personal area, walls to prevent others from traipsing in and out, the safety of walls and roof: but this isn't enough, in and of itself. When you begin to understand how you move through space, have an understanding of the relationship between being and objects (oh crap I'm going to slide sideways into Heidegger again) -- then you start to pick up things like why you never, completely, truly feel 'at home' in a hotel room. Or why some folks (like myself) can only -- under the rarest of situations -- feel comfortable sleeping in someone else's space, surrounded by someone else's territory marks.

Hell, those 'territory markers' are the reason I can't stay in some homes: when even the guest room is jam-packed with mementos and pictures and a bazillion geegaws on the dresser, I feel like the entire space is yelling at me that it's not mine and I don't belong. (Guest bedrooms, even when used for multiple purposes, should be as neutral as possible; it doesn't have to be a hotel room but please, for the love of little uglies, put the twenty-seven china shepherdess statues somewhere else please!)

( And now, living and dining rooms. )

Until next time, when Sol cries, "To the rat mobile! We're Home Depot bound!"