Hanging out with some friends a few days ago, I was
asked how I like my apartment after a year occupying these two rooms. I
spoke of the space as if it were my soul mate. I love this place.
The walls, the floors, the kitchen, and most of all, I love the ceiling in the
living room. This comment about loving the ceiling triggered a round of
uproarious laughter from my friends.
I forget sometimes that a lot of people probably can't relate to what is a hugely consistent element of my daily life: spending significant amounts of time lying on the floor. For many years I have pondered the paint cracks, discolorations, and textures of the ceilings of the many places I've lived. One gets pretty well acquainted with these things after a few hours of staring every day. It's a big part of my life. So of course, it's nice that I now have a nice view from the floor.
It seems strange to me that anyone could live in a place and fail to think about the ceiling a lot. That's as strange sounding to me as loving my ceiling must have sounded to my friends that night.
I forget sometimes that a lot of people probably can't relate to what is a hugely consistent element of my daily life: spending significant amounts of time lying on the floor. For many years I have pondered the paint cracks, discolorations, and textures of the ceilings of the many places I've lived. One gets pretty well acquainted with these things after a few hours of staring every day. It's a big part of my life. So of course, it's nice that I now have a nice view from the floor.
It seems strange to me that anyone could live in a place and fail to think about the ceiling a lot. That's as strange sounding to me as loving my ceiling must have sounded to my friends that night.
Oh, well. For now, I'm enjoying the view. Simple pleasures often carry me through the rougher moments of this life with chronic pain.
1 comment:
Nice. I think you should write an "Ode to My Ceiling," detailing what you love about it :)
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