Waking the house

It’s late when I started to write this, as I’ve not tackled enough paper this week to make even the slightest dent in my paperless project. Over the past couple weeks I’ve been taking note of my habits and one of them is what I like to call (inside my head) waking the house.

It starts in the early morning when I’m newly awake and still trying to get my bearings. Most mornings that means getting some nutrients and lots of water before my morning workout at the gym, finding some appropriate clothes to wear and kicking the dogs out of bed to eat their own breakfast.

And it’s with an almost sadistic glee that I open up the curtains in my room, tying them together in the middle with an old scarf as Wilson tries unsuccessfully to burrow under the covers. Some mornings I get a flashback to my dad throwing open my own curtains to prompt me out of bed for school.

waking the house

 

Once I’m in the kitchen, sipping on my morning protein shake and trying to clean up the inevitable disaster I’ve left from the day before, I’ll open the curtains in the kitchen. These are some of my favorite – sewn and installed by myself – they glide effortlessly and let in so much morning light.

Before heading off to the gym I’ll inevitably stop in the office, sinking into the overstuffed chair I love and taking down a few words in my journal or looking over email on the laptop. The light comes in, even when the shades are low, and warm this seat before the world is truly awake.

So that’s what I’ve been considering. My ritual. Waking the house by opening the doors and windows, allowing light and fresh air to come in. Watering the plants and trying not to kill them with over watering. Feeding the dogs then shooing them outside to sniff and bark at cats and get a little sun.

And I think of this again in the evening, usually hours after the sun has set when I begin to close the house down again. The curtains get tugged back into place, the scarf thrown over the curtain rod for tomorrow. Lights are extinguished and I dim the track light in the living room as the hour grows later. Tonight I lit a candle on the mantle, letting the scent fill up the small room, even as I moved a fan to blow directly on me (hey, it’s 80 degrees at 9pm. summer is here).

As the day comes to a close the dogs inevitably run out of steam, collapsing in a pile of limbs and tired sighs wherever they happen to land. Most nights I carry one of the littles off to their crates where they get a final nighttime treat. I close the curtains on the master closet, signaling it’s time to go to sleep and, after setting my alarm, the house goes to bed.

(True story, just as I finished writing this Wilson wandered in from the bedroom and whined at me. Apparently it’s past my bedtime.)

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