The gunpowder mess in my house continues to melt away, impasse by impasse. As money comes in, so do solutions. More shelves will be next, maybe some IKEA knock-off for the front closet that will let me clear space elsewhere. Once that’s done, I’m hoping to have a hall again, an effortless way to walk in to the rest of the apartment. As is, we clamber slightly past boxes stumbling tall full of unwanted things we’ve sorted out – culinary extras, cheese graters, emptied spice racks, plates, bowls, and home supplies we have no need of, as well as books, CD’s, and movies we’ve seen too many times – and do our best to stay confident that victory will soon be ours.
I was given a mirror this week, three feet by two. Heavy glass the colour of water and lead, framed in greasy, porridge white plastic lined in dental blue. I’ve been painting it a mild, warm gold the same tint as Tanith‘s eyes, and expect to put it up in my room this week. High, too high to work as a mirror generally should, striking, yet off in a corner. I expect when winter comes, it will capture the wholesome light that drips in from the window and help drown the SADS, another change for the better. As it goes up, the spangled sari above my bed comes down, as will the lights at my window, and the french-style Czech absinthe poster. I want to air out my room, shake it, change it, clear it out. I’m going to see what I can do about shuffling the cards of my decor, queen of hearts, jack of trades, and finally placing the thick collection of art and photographs I’ve been collecting in a drawer. Aces, all aces. Frames will be needed, glass, hooks, and drywall screws. I might paint the top of my chest of drawers gold, too, depending on how much paint I have left. I am tired of cozy. Now I want light.