Chamudi has a tent. It is blue and it is totally awesome. We bought it at Ikea this past Sunday.
I want a tent. I seriously do. If I had my own tent I could get so much work done. I'd feel happy and protected and focused and nobody could bother me ever.
If I only had a tent.
Okay--I have an apartment, lovely furniture, lots of beautiful things to fill my home. But none of it thrills me as much those secret places of childhood--the "house" underneath the dining room table, the "fort" behind the couch. None of them make me feel the magic of special place that's all my own.
Maybe I'd feel differently if I owned my home--maybe renting my whole life has robbed me of the adult equivalent of that childhood thrill. But then again, secret forts never need plumbing redone, and imaginary houses don't need to be repainted. So maybe that's not it.
Or perhaps I just want a space all my own. After all, I have never lived alone. I went from my parents, to my dorm, to housemates, to flatmates, to Abba. I've never really had a place that was mine and mine alone--never had, in my adult life, the opportunity to create a space that was just for me, never really felt the peace (and the loneliness) of that kind of solitude. Just an endless flow of (wonderful) people, with their ideas and their opinions and their stuff. Or nowadays..."our" stuff.
I wonder if I just long for the simplicity of childhood, when having that special place was the most wonderful thing you could imagine. Maybe the tent would be wasted on me now. Would I run in and out and in and out? Would I laugh like crazy when people peeked in? Would I drag all my favorite toys into it for safe keeping?
Anyway, Abba said I could get one if I really want to. Honestly, I don't think we have the space for two tents in our two-bedroom apartment.
But maybe if we redecorate...