the art of roughing it



I am sitting on the floor of our new, well new-old, apartment, with my bum propped up on a pillow and my head against the kitchen door. The other rooms yet to have lights and although the light is brighter in the bathroom the noise of the ceiling fan began to get on my nerves.

After investigating twelve or so other potential homes, we ended up back where we started, heimstrasse, fitting really since Heim in German means home.

The next few weeks will be centered around decorating this place as if it were a Christmas tree, but first I am learning how to live without a fridge. I always thought that I was too bourgeois to be able to feel calm about not having a fridge. To be honest, I wasn’t at first. “I don’t care if we don’t have a bed, but a fridge, a fridge, how could we possibly live without a fridge?”

Well if one drinks green tea in the mornings instead of coffee with milk or eats quinoa with apples and walnuts instead of orange granola with milk, it really isn’t that difficult. I am actually quite enjoying this. The lack of fridge, lights, and furniture is rubbing up against my creative side. All I need is space to create, not things standing in that space. With all distractions removed I am left free to focus on the ceiling, on the floor, and the relationship that I create between the two.

Toby is moving all of our furniture that has been taking some time off from Switzerland back to Germany. I guess it is inevitable that we fill up this space, but I am glad that I have gotten to know it a bit better in its purest form before it is cluttered with cardboard trees, bookshelves, and herb plants.

He isn’t bringing back a fridge though, so I do have a little more time to play with the immediacy of food, as opposed to keeping it cool until one is ready.


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