Category: Making space work

The use of the physical space in sharing a home.

Norway

I don’t need a puffer jacket to keep me warm nor do I need to shovel snow. I like this Norway.  

We joke, but I would like to visit Norway.

The ethereal northern lights hypnotize me. I sit here in Norway, reveling in the deep greens of the valleys marked by perfectly spaced blue of small lakes. The snow-covered mountain peaks paint a majestic background to the humble red barn and white farmhouse set far below. Averting my gaze slightly, I marvel at the green grass, the bright bougainvillea, and the regal three-story queen palms.

Wait, palms in Norway? Oh yes. I am in my writing shed, dubbed Norway by my friend Nancy, who also supplied me with photos of that beautiful land. The green grass, bougainvillea, and palms are in my backyard, in direct sight of my shed.

I love this space. I reserve it for writing, reading, or related activities. Everyone acknowledges it is my space, to be entered only with permission. Even Luna refuses to venture inside.

I unlock the door and immediately relax. What is it about a room of your own? I search my mental encyclopedia of Jungian psychology; the answer must be there. This plot of 64 square feet acts as my Ego, protecting my Self from adverse risks. I am cocooned in protection.

Whatever. The challenges of sharing a home with two other generations and their Life burdens are safely ensconced in the edifice less than 20 feet away. I am here if needed, but they need to seek me out. I don’t need a puffer jacket to keep me warm nor do I need to shovel snow. I like this Norway.  

If not a she-shed . . .?

It might be best to remain renters as needed. It is nice to pack up, go home, and let someone else clean up and tend to repairs. 

Where is that?

Gee, it is hot!

The temperature reached summer highs early this year, imprisoning us indoors. Night-time temperatures hover around 90, transforming the pool into an oversized bathtub which brings little relief.

Moving into this house with its over-sized lot, we relieved the workload and divest of our other properties. We sold off two pieces in the pines of Munds Park, although it would be nice to have one of those right now to escape the furnace of the Valley of the Sun.

We also own half of ED’s property and half of Mike’s father’s house. We can’t seem to get down to one plot.

Sharing a house is not easy.

A week of various trials in house sharing prompted me to consider investing in a condo to use as a getaway. The she-shed isn’t going to happen because of the need for cooling, heating, electricity, and zoning laws. My nephew and niece’s guesthouse isn’t always available.

In the summer I want to go north out of the heat. In the winter, I prefer to stay in the desert. No place is ideal.

Do I really want more responsibility?

I hesitate. Do we really want more property? We would ease the expense by renting it out when not in use. But there is still the maintenance and administration.

I had my trusty realtor Lou check on properties for me. I see places that need upgrading and furnishing. My heart is not in it.

It might be best to remain renters as needed. It is nice to pack up, go home, and let someone else clean up and tend to repairs. 

House or home

We maintain this house for our multi-generational family. It is home to all of

Our next home?

Beset by cabin fever, Mike and I headed out by car yesterday afternoon, checking off mundane errands. Having equipped ourselves for a road trip by enjoying a Firehouse Subs sandwich on the shop’s patio, we set out for the far west.

Revelation

I now draw your attention to two thoughts which this paragraph sparked:

  1. Hunkering down at home during the pandemic makes trivial errands stimulating.
  2. A few years ago, the sandwich shop at this location did not exist, the area having been covered in cotton fields. Our far west destination was only eight minutes further. When we last drove there, we felt as though we had traveled halfway to San Diego. Thanks to urban sprawl, it now feels like the next town over.

Buckeye or bust

Our destination was Next Generation model homes by Lennar Builders, homes designed to accommodate multiple generations. No, we are not looking for another group home. Are there, doing that. I was on a field trip for my blog to witness what a builder thinks is essential for multiple generations.

I have found that looking at model homes or homes on the market helps me define what I like/dislike about my home and what to look for in the next. It also affirms that everyone has different needs, different tastes, different expectations. Not to mention different standards of home maintenance and housekeeping.

Except for the location, one of the models we viewed yesterday could have worked for us, imperfectly. Possibly less perfectly than our present house.

Every house a home

We are living now in our 11th abode. Some I loved; some I tolerated. All of them served us well. My favorites weren’t necessarily the most finished. The ones I loved had me as soon as I walked in the door, an indescribable quality that says, “You are home.”

No matter the habitat, each became home to us as we invested time in the physical structure and/or community. The less comfortable the residence, the more important the community to grow roots.

The pandemic has us focusing on our domicile more than usually. Hence the many trips to Home Depot.

How many more?

Mike and I do not know what or where our next living arrangement will be. We discuss it without enthusiasm. It isn’t time. Hopefully, it will be a decision that we ourselves can make, not one forced upon us by disability.  

We maintain this house for our multi-generational family. It is home to all of us. When the time is right, another door will open and say, “Welcome home.”

COVID-19 in a multi-generational home

Living together increased our chances of infection but allowed us to care for each other: making tea, arranging meals. This multi-generational arrangement supported our sense of family.

Diagnosis

The diagnoses were confirmed: four of us in the household tested positive for COVID-19. Mowgli, being asymptomatic, was not tested.

We contemplated the source of the infection, given our limited exposure to anyone outside the house. It doesn’t matter; we weren’t going anywhere.

Quarantine

When the symptoms first appeared, we acted to isolate ourselves from each other. We donned masks in the common areas. Everyone retreated to their rooms. Mike settled at his desk in the den during the day, sleeping on the couch at night.

Meals were often carry-out from local restaurants and then carry-out to the bedrooms. We were living in a boarding house.

Recovery

As seniors, Mike and I are the highest at risk but experienced mild symptoms. ED and Blue Boy suffered more seriously although functioned throughout the course of the illness. We are thankful for the minimal impact, aware of the death of a neighbor and the hospitalization of a close friend.

The diagnoses allowed us to loosen our restrictions. Mike moved back to the bedroom. We enjoyed a meal together.

Family

While isolated in my room, I am continuously entertained by Mowgli in the room above me. The noise that irritates in the night is forgotten as I enjoy Mowgli’s robust laughter during the day.

Living together increased our chances of infection but allowed us to care for each other: making tea, arranging meals. This multi-generational arrangement supported our sense of family.