I’m not sleeping well. I’ll blame it on stress. But to be honest my sleep schedule has been off for quite awhile now. I’m naturally an early riser, but lately I’ve been on this pattern of waking at 2am. I’m doing a victory dance if I actually sleep till 4am. But it does gives me gads of time to get things done and watch old Christmas movies (or at least movies that kind of fall into that category).
This morning I stood in my little kitchen slash dining area slash living room heating water for tea. I live on one side of a long rectangle gray 1962 duplex that sits in a very eclectic neighborhood called Government Hill. It’s been a long renovation process – over six years and I still have many projects to go with less and less money. Out of all the projects I’m happiest with my open living area with its painted white kitchen cabinets, dark laminate flooring that merges the space into a tiny living room. The open space is cozy but a challenge to decorate for Christmas and I wasn’t quite happy with the placement of the six foot white artificial tree by the front door. At the time I thought it would work, that I would get over the nagging feeling that it wasn’t quite right.
Up too early with too much alone time, my mind pondered all of this and in the spur of the moment, still in my robe, I decided to move the tree. Which meant I had to move the furniture. Which meant I had to move a fully decorated Christmas tree. And I did. I’m sure if someone was watching this tiny 5 foot, middle aged women, wrapped in a long purple robe tugging and sliding furniture around at 5am they would have laughed their heads off. But after some trial and error I stepped back to admire my nest. It felt right. I looked at the clock. It was time to make breakfast. My granddaughter would be over soon for our weekend breakfast.