Moving to the basement has a few distinct advantages.
The most obvious and immediately apparent, of course, is the darkness and coolness. My bedroom faces east and has a poorly sealed door to the attic over the garage. It can be unbearably hot and bright by 9 or 10am. Not a good environment, especially for day sleeping or even sleeping in.
It's less cluttered. In the basement, I have a TV, a table, a couch, a sheet, two pillows, my computer, its cord and bag, and a few books. Oh, and my iPhone with its alarm set so I don't oversleep for work in eleven hours. My room is a disaster. It's the result of a cluttered mind, and its overwhelming messiness doesn't leave any possibility for relaxation.
Thirdly, it's private. It's a sanctuary from the craziness that makes up life above ground. I'm away from my anxious and out-of-touch mother and I'm two floors separated from my sister who barely leaves her room to begin with, also for the reason of avoiding said mother. My dad has his space on the other side of the basement and my dog stops by now and then too. So I can see the people I want to see. And I'm not looking over my shoulder like I would be in the downstairs office.
It's a place where I can recover and come to peace with myself. It's the perfect friend hangout too. Fuck my old room.
No comments:
Post a Comment