Friday, February 13, 2009


Ever since we moved to this house I have had trouble sleeping. It seems like I can't get through a night without waking up.

My first thought was that it was because I was working more night shifts. Bigger mortgage=have to work more=more stress=insomnia.

But I think that I have discovered the root of the problem. The bedroom is just TOO BIG. While it is lovely--with 2 closets, a fireplace, a bathroom, and a balcony facing the backyard--I do not feel secure in there. It feels like I am floating around in the open air when I am laying in bed.

I have always felt that I could live happily in a tiny home (that is, if I was able to part with some of the "junk"). I also thought that this was probably a character flaw of mine according to our society. Houses are built so large now--ours is from 1985 but still 3,000 square feet--it seems like living in a behemoth should be a normal way of life. Never mind all the earth's resources that it takes to maintain and run this house.

Our home in Illinois was 1,300 square feet. I was living happier in it. We were all closer. My bed was right next to the window where I could see and hear the oak leaves tap against one another every morning. I had birds to wake me and I could see strands of caterpillar silk reflected in the early sunlight.

I miss the simple life.


walk2write said...

Don't worry. As you get older, your (or your spouse's) expectations (should) become more realistic, and you will find that you have down-sized. Age and gravity take their toll, you know.

C. Moonflower said...

Sounds like something to look forward to. Can't wait!

Annie in Austin said...

That untethered feeling is familiar to me, C.Moonflower! I never did get used to the too-big bedroom with mirrored closets & sliding doors leading onto a 'skydeck' at our previous Austin house. The ceiling in the living room was 18' tall. It was great when we had out-of-town guests but not for everyday.
Sometimes it felt like living on a stage set -at other times I felt like the concierge.

Annie at the Transplantable Rose

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