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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2f4tFUg:deputychairman replied to your photo “Yurt door, dawn. Might take it down today, if I can scrounge the time…”
I worry about you sleeping in a field in WINTER, I hope there is a cosy corner of the house you can move into for my peace of mind!
Aw, that’s sweet of you to worry. There’s a guestroom, which is mostly not-occupied– any of these nights, if it had proven too cold or too wet, I could have gone inside and had my pick of any of the three beds in the guestroom. And if the guestroom was occupied, why, I have a camping cot, and I could set it up in the dining room or the living room or the pantry or something if I so chose, and been fine and cozy. I actually said on Tuesday night, since it had rained all day and I hadn’t prepared by covering the bit of the bed under the roof window with a tarp, if my bed was wet I’d come back inside and sleep. But it wasn’t. (And I’ve discovered that the kerosene heater actually only really works well if it’s at or below freezing outside; I passed last night unexpectedly comfortable, because the weather forecasts all said it’d be 40 and it actually was 32. I came out this morning and saw all the frost on the ground and double-checked my phone’s weather app, which resolutely said it was 40. I mean, water freezes at 32, that’s just how Fahrenheit works, so I don’t know what that weather app was actually measuring. I guess we got microclimates or something.)
(I’ve been promised electricity of my very own for next year. We’ll see, it’d be a novelty, but i could still be okay without it.)
And if I didn’t want to sleep any of those places, my sister lives six miles away in the city and actually bought a fold-down futon couch so that she could have guests stay with her. (But I don’t, because she really likes to watch TV until 2 am, and when the farm start time is 6:30, as it is in the summer, that makes me really cranky.) And my parents live 15 miles away, and have THREE empty bedrooms in their house, and would LOVE for me to come visit, and that’s what I did last year, but it got a little old to have to fill my gastank one whole extra time per visit from driving 30 miles a day to my volunteer job and back.
I got the yurt because it wasn’t certain they’d be able to buy this farm, there was a lot of uncertainty right up to the last minute, and I wanted to ensure that regardless of where they wound up living while they tried to start this business one way or another (there were many contingency plans), I’d have a guestroom of my own. And I do. My sister is Extremely Tidy, and I Am Not, and I like to be able to keep my mess somewhere that nobody sees it or trips over it or Judges me for it. It’s a cozy, cluttered little guest bedroom in the woods, is what it is. But the walls can’t bear the load of snow, so it’s got to come down for the winter.
And I won’t be visiting much in the winter; I’ve got to go back full-time at my online-retail job for their busy season. Which means no family visits, which sustain me so, but also means I get to be in my house and catch up on my laundry and maybe clean the place up a bit, and also, you know, hang out with that dude I like.
It also means I don’t see my family for the holidays at all, but we get by; I never do. That’s what working retail means, and what bartending before that meant. Last year was a glorious anomaly. Maybe next year things will be different. I haven’t actually really properly celebrated Thanksgiving, which has always been my favoritest of favorite holidays, in the last, mm, decade? It pretty much doesn’t happen.
Holidays are for Baby Boomers.
I worry about you sleeping in a field in WINTER, I hope there is a cosy corner of the house you can move into for my peace of mind!
Aw, that’s sweet of you to worry. There’s a guestroom, which is mostly not-occupied– any of these nights, if it had proven too cold or too wet, I could have gone inside and had my pick of any of the three beds in the guestroom. And if the guestroom was occupied, why, I have a camping cot, and I could set it up in the dining room or the living room or the pantry or something if I so chose, and been fine and cozy. I actually said on Tuesday night, since it had rained all day and I hadn’t prepared by covering the bit of the bed under the roof window with a tarp, if my bed was wet I’d come back inside and sleep. But it wasn’t. (And I’ve discovered that the kerosene heater actually only really works well if it’s at or below freezing outside; I passed last night unexpectedly comfortable, because the weather forecasts all said it’d be 40 and it actually was 32. I came out this morning and saw all the frost on the ground and double-checked my phone’s weather app, which resolutely said it was 40. I mean, water freezes at 32, that’s just how Fahrenheit works, so I don’t know what that weather app was actually measuring. I guess we got microclimates or something.)
(I’ve been promised electricity of my very own for next year. We’ll see, it’d be a novelty, but i could still be okay without it.)
And if I didn’t want to sleep any of those places, my sister lives six miles away in the city and actually bought a fold-down futon couch so that she could have guests stay with her. (But I don’t, because she really likes to watch TV until 2 am, and when the farm start time is 6:30, as it is in the summer, that makes me really cranky.) And my parents live 15 miles away, and have THREE empty bedrooms in their house, and would LOVE for me to come visit, and that’s what I did last year, but it got a little old to have to fill my gastank one whole extra time per visit from driving 30 miles a day to my volunteer job and back.
I got the yurt because it wasn’t certain they’d be able to buy this farm, there was a lot of uncertainty right up to the last minute, and I wanted to ensure that regardless of where they wound up living while they tried to start this business one way or another (there were many contingency plans), I’d have a guestroom of my own. And I do. My sister is Extremely Tidy, and I Am Not, and I like to be able to keep my mess somewhere that nobody sees it or trips over it or Judges me for it. It’s a cozy, cluttered little guest bedroom in the woods, is what it is. But the walls can’t bear the load of snow, so it’s got to come down for the winter.
And I won’t be visiting much in the winter; I’ve got to go back full-time at my online-retail job for their busy season. Which means no family visits, which sustain me so, but also means I get to be in my house and catch up on my laundry and maybe clean the place up a bit, and also, you know, hang out with that dude I like.
It also means I don’t see my family for the holidays at all, but we get by; I never do. That’s what working retail means, and what bartending before that meant. Last year was a glorious anomaly. Maybe next year things will be different. I haven’t actually really properly celebrated Thanksgiving, which has always been my favoritest of favorite holidays, in the last, mm, decade? It pretty much doesn’t happen.
Holidays are for Baby Boomers.
