My room here at the MIRA residence is all cool white and sparse. The centre of the cathedral ceiling reaches some 25 feet. The chandelier hanging from it is simple wrought iron.
I have a queen size bed covered with a pretty brown duvet with a pretty pattern of circles in green and cream. There's a large trunk, a desk and chair. A seven-foot mirror leads against one wall. I also have a standing lamp with a round red lampshade, and IKEA type storage for my clothes with cloth shelves hanging from a wide coat rack. The floor is marble and partly covered by an area rug made of some kind of natural woven fabric.
The rooms in this house are built around an interior courtyard. Three doors lead into it: one of the bedrooms on one side, two other bedrooms opposite share an anteroom also leading to the courtyard. Between them, a third door leads into the ample kitchen with all the amenities. There's a set of stairs beside the kitchen leading to the rooftop, where we hang handwashed clothes to dry.
It's nice to sit in the courtyard during the day to sip latte after latte and write. It's early October but the weather still makes that comfortable.
Today I walked back to Calimera to pay my debt to the pastry lady who let me take home last night's dessert even though I'd forgotten my wallet at home. I had the bill with me, but she remembered exactly what I owed her without looking at it. She may be kind but she's no fool.
Old North American habits die hard. I stopped at a clothing store on the way to the pay my debt and ended up buying two pairs of casual pants and two tops. I told myself I needed and deserved them. I didn't bring enough light-weight everyday stuff from home. I thought it would be chillier than this in October and November.
So, okay, I could have managed with the two pairs of jeans I did bring and the Tilley Endurable pants with the fifteen secret pockets and zippered legs so you can turn them into shorts. I could have, but I didn't want to. That's the nice thing about getting older. You seem to build up a greater immunity to guilt. n
Besides, there's no washing machine here at the house. No coin laundry facility anywhere here or in Calimera. There is a sort of washing service, but my housemate Barbara learned the hard way the expense of going that route. Who needs everyday T-shirts and pjs ironed? Besides, the woman wouldn't take socks or underwear.
I finally figured out how to work Skype. A friend of mine called me from Vancouver. It was fun for me. For him, well, I was so excited he told me to stop moving because I was making him seasick.
A couple of days from now, I'm going to be involved in my writing group's monthly meeting. They in Toronto; me in Martignano. We'll see how that goes.
My room at MIRA