I’ve never wanted an actual physical house, but I’ve always known that if I were to live in anything, I’d want a small little cottage like the one above. (1) Naturally, my preference is in a warm country where I could have an outdoor living and dining area. The only space which I want to be big, is the kitchen. I want it to be a place of congregation for people I love, and into whom I am shoving food made (and ordered) with love.
Size has never been an issue. The Cloud Cave is 800 square feet and that’s ample room for two people; besides, tiny homes mean cozier cuddles, and I’ll always ask: Why live with someone if you’re not cuddling all the time? Ass grabs expected, please and thank you. I’ve always loved bungalows, and want everything cozy. It’s why I have a two-seater couch in The Cloud Cave; I want to sit cozy next to people, rather than afar. It’s how I force cuddles.
The only size that does matter is the amount of care that exists in my home. Am I tending to people? Am I forgiving? Am I understanding? Am I being forgiven? Am I being tended to? Are we looking after and out for one another in my home? These are things which I need to have in ever-expanding measure.
I always want comfort everywhere in my home, both physically and metaphorically as The Cloud Cave already has, and like I wrote in The Big Dick Energy.
Recently, there has been a shift. I want a small home, and a garden. I want to look out at a garden to which neither myself nor he have tended, because we are too busy tending to one another inside – this is not merely sexual. This is everything that makes a heart swell, and turns our sh.tty habits on their head demanding that we show up better for one another, because that is in service of how we show up better for ourselves first.
The shift hasn’t been conscious. It’s just that I’ve found myself considering homes on my daily walks – I would live here, can I build a bungalow cottage here? What if I moved out of Ottawa and found something smaller? Carlington neighbourhood close to Fisher Avenue has gorgeous baby cottages from the post-war days. I have to roll past every time I go to momma’s and I love all of the houses.
Except. I wouldn’t move so far out without a partner. I wouldn’t isolate myself unless isolating with a lover. So for now, just this gentle awareness. Rolling with, and exploring the feelings as they say hello.
How about you?
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