It turns out my beloved basement dwellers have decided their love stands a more fighting chance if they don't share the same roof, a phenomenon I grok on every. conceivable. level. even if it potentially leaves me capital "F" Fucked.
I'm hoping it won't, though. I'm hoping it's fortuitous timing. Because it turns out the only thing not "perfect" about my current life is this house. I can't afford it. It's too big. It's waaaay too far away from my life. And it's so cold, I can cry just THINKING about last winter.
Instead of focusing even a nanosecond of my energy on the terrifying what ifs (or the math), let me put out there what I want my home to be like:
I want to live in North Portland.
In a big house.
With lots of people.
And their children.
Preferably people who create things with their brains and their hands and their hearts.
People who teach those things to others.
I want to be House Mom.
I want a home with a steady stream of chaos thrumming through its (hardwood) floorboards.
I want noise to not just be tolerated, but encouraged.
I want to bake blueberry muffins from our homegrown bushes only to eat one of them myself and have the remaining 23 devoured by grateful freeitarians (and/or their offspring).
I want heat.
I want chickens.
I want to be able to walk to my favorite bar, drink too much, and stumble home without worrying about Lola.
I want to be near a farmer's market that supports people who are even poorer than me.
I want roommates who care more about recycling than dirty dishes.
I want a ZERO TOLERANCE judgment policy.
I want weird smells in the kitchen and odd stains on the linoleum.
I want to not wonder if those stains belonged to me or you.
I want none of us to care who spilled the wine.
Or who broke the glasses.
I want to hear you fucking the guts out of the person(s) you love.
I want music.
I want us to make it together.
With our children.
I want us to dance in the kitchen until 3AM.
I want backyard bonfires and vegan weenie roasts where you have to use those fish-shaped baskets or your tofu dogs will totally melt until they become magical soy sauce for my homemade marshmallows.
I want to cook for you and yours.
I want us to grow as much food as we possibly can.
I want to put ALL OF OUR CHILDREN ON TIMEOUT AT THE SAME TIME.
(and not ONLY so we can smoke a bowl in the basement.)
I want my kids to have other rad, open-minded, slightly-dirty children to chase through our dandelion lawn.
I want roommates who care just barely more about humanity than they do about the environment.
I want you to understand that the television in the basement is "broken" for a reason.
I want love and kindness.
I want you to know that it's okay for your homeless friends to crash here. I will totally make them dinner and feed their dogs. I will even buy them cigarettes and beer if my tips are good enough because I understand.
Because I am HOUSE FUCKING MOM and nobody goes hungry in my house.
There is always food.
And there is always love.
And there is always a cacophony.
If you'd like to be a part of it, let me know, because I need to fill my house with love and putting this out there is the only first step I can think of.