My Nest

 

The street where my nest is.

I bought my Nest  for my 45th birthday as my retirement home. It was a renovated attic in a 400 year old building in a Catalan Village on the French side but not far from the Spanish border. I paid $18,000 cash.

 

The kitchen has everything I need including a washer.

I thought my retirement income at that point would be $600 and I could live on that quite well. Fortunately more working, moving to Switzerland, and becoming a writer made it not as dire.

 

I wanted to live in a village which I could walk to the butcher, baker, and green grocer and get the freshest of the fresh. There I can also walk to the vet, movie theatre and most other services.

A fireplace plus looking at rooftops is good for dreaming.

I also wanted to test my three goals. To own NOTHING that wasn't at least one of the three:

• Beautiful
• A memory
• Useful

From seeing my dad live on his boat in the summer I knew one had to be very careful about what one possessed in a limited space. I was ahead of my time in being a minimalist. I would also be a perfect candidate for a tiny home.

Everything in it was carefully chosen. I have antique copper pans bought at a vide grenier or flea market. Each one went to Syria where I found someone to reline them with tin. They were transported by Syrian friends heading for Damascus to visit friends and relatives. When it got down to two, I gave one to the man who did the relining because he was intrigued by the design. I never met him, but I feel as if I know him. I do wonder how he survived the war.

After marrying my soul mate several years into retirement, the Nest was too small and we rented a bigger place. Although we could have rented the Nest as a BnB since every part of it was personal, I couldn't face it. We use it as a guest room for friends and friends of friends.

I have decided it is not a good idea. The majority of guests have been wonderful but a number of things have made me very unhappy with a few of those guests who we did not know well. Family and good friends will still be welcome.

For example one guest replaced a green shower curtain. The green was exactly the color of the leaf in the frame of the bathroom mirror that was bought on a special trip to Spain, a town that specialized in ceramics. I had a great tapas lunch that day.

A scarab I used as a bath towel holder disappeared. It had been a gift.

The Nest is not to be used an attic. It will not become a storage dump for things to get forgotten and my daughter to find when we pass on. Not sure how we ended up with several sets of sheets and towels, where two would do or at the most three. We will willow it down.

Things were added like dustpan and brush, ugly black plastic. I had a special dustpan, hand painted by an artist neighbor of my mother. Sweeping up anything and using the artistic dustpan makes the chore less odious. It brings back memories of a wonderful day in Florida with my stepmom and the artist looking out at birds flying between the backyard and the lake. The dustpan is a perfect example when something is more, much more than its function.

I want and still do for everything thing I own to have some meaning to nourish my eyes, heart and soul. 

Despite not wanting duplicates, I do have pens, many handmade and all beautiful. I pick one up and I feel happy. It isn't some cheap plastic thingie. Cheap and ugly pens or beautiful pens leave my handwriting is the same -- under-wonderful.

I cringe when my beloved husband says, "We need to buy..." especially if it is something that we have. My idea when I buy something is that it won't be replaced until it dies a natural death. Our fridge is almost there. Our shower curtain is not. I bought that with the idea that I might even outlive it and not to be cast it aside because it needs a wash. Also it has a beautiful aqua series of bubbles that match the soap holder and rug.

My husband and I will go to the Nest and get rid of everything that does not fit my three criteria for ownership. I have no idea who bought four roles of paper towels, but when I lived alone, one role lasted close to two years. Rags worked better and a squiggy worked for the windows. We do use paper towels, much to my disgust, downstairs. At least the extra won't go to waste. When you're in love you compromise.

In Geneva we are looking for a new flat. My goal is to keep everything to a minimum. I probably won't be as OCD as I am about the Nest. 

I am not a good consumer in this consumer society. Some of it may be respect for the environment, but more of it is that I feel claustrophobic surrounded by ugly things, I don't need want and will never use.

New writers are often taught less is more. I carry the idea over from my laptop writing to my life. The less I have, the freer I am to see, feel, smell, taste, hear what I do have.