I have full rights to one room in the house. One room only that I pay for and cherish as mine. It is my space. A place where I constantly let the floordrobe get out of control even though I hate the sight of it. A place where I can put a little David Gray on the stereo and relax. A place where I can light candles and let the world fuck off for a while.
It is not often that I close the door to this room. One reason is that I share it with two cats who seem to get the shits whenever they are denied access. But I don't often feel the need to retreat from the rest of the house, hence either my door is open or I'm in the loungeroom anyway.
Twice I have defended my zone with harsh words and had my door slammed by a person other than myself. God help the perpetrator of the third (if ever) incident because under the skin of this relatively easy-going type is a vile and volcanic individual with little to no self-control when pushed over the edge.
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4 comments:
Yikes!
I see an ass-kicking approaching.
And thank you for the word "floordrobe", Vic. It made me snort green tea out my nose and all over my keyboard.
Yes, floordrobe is the kind of word that makes me mad I didn't think of it first. Curses, but thanks!
making a mental note:
if ever I am granted such a priviledge to be in the same room with you, I will mind my p's and q's on my way out!
floordrobe? LOL! You are adorable Vic.
Dive: Hopefully it won't happen in the ass-kicking department. I really want to avoid massive temper loss these days.
Nina: I'm sure you wouldn't exit badly, so you're fine!
Scout, Nina and Dive: Floordrobe is such a fantastic descriptive word, but I can't take credit for it either. It's an inheritance from IcePick, the weekend housemate. He's extended himself to having a couchdrobe as well.
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