I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. Years, in fact. It’s the reason I watch Clean House and have spent since 2002 on a junk diet, in this case meaning I’m slimming down my ownership and acquisition of junk. This move even looks to be a sign of my success in that area: a good portion of what I own is already stored in neatly labeled plastic boxes, ready for transit.¹ The new move is close to ideal, with two exceptions: the bathroom has that icky hard-to-clean 80s tile, and the kitchen is much too small for my tastes. But I have Mike to consider, and it has central air, massive square footage and makes him happy, so at the end of July we transition our lives there, and I hope within a year to be able to spring for underground parking.

As to my own ideal environment – something temperate, preferably year round, located in a neighborhood where I can walk to everything. It’s what I liked about where I grew up – it was travel-friendly to pedestrians and hobos. But I like the large city aspect of where I live, without delusions of being small town/big city like Crown Point had. It helps that Minneapolis actually is a big city, with a population over 1 million when you count the suburbs. I like mass transit readily available, a good natural food coop nearby, a library and post office within walking distance and ultimately, even my credit union nearby. I like convenience. Having a place to read outdoors is also ideal. I’m going to miss Old Milwaukee Avenue (my reading outside bench is there) and it will be hard to come visit, but now I feel weird spending time there now that I know for sure I’m leaving this neighborhood.

Indoors, my first priority is comfortable furniture. Right now all the furniture in our home is extremely uncomfortable, so a good portion of the time we just sit on the floor because the outcome on our backs is the same. We’re trading it in for good stuff soon, and I’m being finicky because I want comfort. My health is better, as are my personal decisions, when my body isn’t challenged by the stuff where I sit or lie to accomplish my work. Even my desk chair is a problem, and to some extent, my desk. I need a larger plexiglass covering. In a perfect world, I would own a true live/work loft studio with a huge kitchen, including a kitchen island, hanging pots, and a dishwasher. Maybe one of those icemaker refrigerators. It would have lots of shelving so I could have lazy susans for all my herbs. My bed would be round, with satin sheets. The floor would be hardwood, with carpet installed in the bedroom. It would be way up high in the sky, away from excess noise. Pizza would deliver there. ² My office would have a skylight, maybe a second one for Mike’s desk, too, and extra shelving along the walls where he could put his damn penguins. Along with the bedroom with a magical walk-in closet of Narnia-like proportions, we would have that “third” bedroom filled with my books and ritual gear, along with the altar, a few bean bag chairs and a writing desk and chair. It would be well-ventilated and have different colors on all the walls. This would be our library/my ritual space. And it would have a balcony, spacious enough that I could plant hanging baskets and flowerboxes all over it so that in June and July things would bloom in crazy trailers, and on cold days they could perfume our home with oxygen. The keys to my idea place would be space and light – lots of open space, nothing accessory on the floor for any reason, not even lamps, space to dance, space to write, space to live. Color, vibrant, everywhere.³  An indoor swimming pool wouldn’t be bad, either.

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1. Made easier by the sucky layout of my current closet. Definitely not designed for someone as prone to clothing as I am. [↩]
2. I learned in Mankato that I never again want to live so far out of town I can’t have pizza delivered. [↩]
3. This can only be done in small doses – Mike can’t handle the work of my favorite artist, which is all vibrant color and brings things out of you. [↩]