This morning I have woken up in 2004, in a studio apartment. Last night I slept in my HQ, which is a spare bedroom upstairs where I have my sewing stuff and a too-small table to spread out my notes and papers.
I dragged the boys to a small hardware store yesterday for vacuum bags for the ants but they didn’t have the right size. So after we came back from a birthday party and then a burger joint, I dragged my tired ass upstairs and crawled into bed with this guy.
This morning, I am surrounded by most things I had in that teeny apartment more than a decade ago, when I moved to Sydney to start my grown up life in the big smoke: bathroom, desk, ironing board, wardrobe, and clothes strewn hell to breakfast. The only thing I lack up here is a kitchen. On the other hand, I’ve got some thought-provoking art that I didn’t have back then.
Even someone talking in their sleep in the next room, last night, reminded me of those days, because my studio was a renovated sun room or etc, on the back of a house with a couple of roommates in there. But someone complaining loudly about not being able to play minecraft had me crashing back to reality, and I need to tidy up the kitchen or Husband will lose his shit when he comes home today. We met a few months after I moved into that appartment, he was a little less vocal about my mess.