The Snuggery

Recently I had this idea of naming my apartment.  Those who know me know I watch far more British programs (or programmes) than I ought and I took a liking to the way people name their homes, e.g. The Willows, Dove Cottage in Wordsworth's case, you get the idea.  These of course bring to mind cozy houses decorated with lovely antiques and appropriate furniture with wisteria cascading down trellises and roses growing around the door frame.  City apartments with mismatched Ikea furniture, or even with sleek expensive modern ones are less likely to have names as they don't inspire much sentimentality.  However, the cheap furniture notwithstanding, I decided to name my humble little apartment, not so much with the expectation of others calling it anything other than 7C, but because to me it is very much a living thing with its own character.

To do this I thought of words to describe my place and put them in two categories: how it makes me feel when I am there, and what I would like it to represent to those who are invited in.  What I mean by the latter is that when I have a party or just have a friend or two over, I want my guests to experience Gemütlichkeit.  I do not have the best couch or the most comfortable chairs, nor do I have the greatest kitchen, but I still want people to feel they can relax and eat well.  Personally, I don't like going into a home and being intimidated by its pristineness that I feel I can't touch anything or move around much.

Of course, how I feel about my home is just as important so I started to cross off words like gracious and hospitable because that really comes from me and how I feel at the time.  I'm almost always welcoming but I don't know if I'm always gracious (I'm thinking about the time I had this party and I was up for more than 24 hours arranging everything and a few people showed up at 5am).  There's also the fact that the more I see other people's homes, the more I realize my living room is not furnished for gatherings and comfortable group chats, i.e. not much seating.

So how do I see my home?  Imperfect.  Flawed, but acceptable.  A little slovenly at times when I get lax with the housework but overall clean and organized to a certain extent (don't open some of the drawers!)  A bit minimal with mismatched but functional furniture.  On the plain side with little decoration.  In other words, me.  And it suits me fine.  I will not agonize over spills on furniture, either by me or anyone else.  I do not have sterile floors.  I did get a little upset when I noticed some of the paint cracking and chipping on the ceiling a few months ago but hey, this apartment was last painted eight years ago - there's gonna be some of that.  With the exception of the kitchen, most of my apartment is original from when it was built over 60 years ago and I don't mind the old fixtures so long as they work, which they do.

Do you know, I never feel lonely being alone at home?  Some people say they get antsy and they need to get out.  I don't know why being home alone doesn't bother me - it makes sense that it should but maybe I'm not that social.  Being with fun people and talking to friends is very nice - I don't shun it completely - but when I'm at home I see plenty that need to be done rather than a state I need to get away from.  So although words like "refuge" and "sanctuary" are appropriate, I didn't want to use them because they sound as if I'm running away from something, which I'm not.  And they sound so unoriginal anyway.  Cozy is too obvious.  I thought about "The Agreeable" because this place just agrees with me.  It's not spectacular and it won't win any design awards but it suits my needs.  And then I thought it sounded a little too neutral and, let's face it, pretentious.  Anyway, I'm not neutral - I'm very fond of this rectangular box I live in.  So using the thesaurus, which I often do when I write, I looked up "hermitage" and words of that ilk and found "snuggery".

How appropriate that the perfect word (perfect sounding, too!) I'd been looking for is British.  A snug place or position.  A comfortable or cozy room.  This is it.  This is Apartment 7C.  C for cozy!  Welcome to The Snuggery.  Won't you please join me for tea and scones at The Snuggery this afternoon?  This Saturday I'll be hosting a wine tasting at The Snuggery.  You are invited to my party at The Snuggery!  I love it.

Ah, Spring

Ah, spring is in the air.  Damn.  I dread this time of year, always.  True to my contrarian nature, I dislike what most people describe as "beautiful weather."  Sun + heat = blech.  Why?  Just a few reasons: my fondness for black, a horrible sun allergy, a horrible everything else allergy, squinting at blinding sunshine, higher risk of skin cancer, sticky sunblock slathered on to reduce said higher risk of skin cancer, something more than mere modesty preventing me from blithely prancing around in tank tops and shorts in pastel colors, and finally, the looming uncomfortable humidity of another sweltering city summer just around the corner.  And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

But what about your new tiny plot, the two of you reading this may ask.  Looking at it from my bedroom window I noticed that my neighbors have fenced off their area, probably venturing a few precious inches into mine.  Had I been proactive about it, I suppose I could have pre-empted their taking liberties early on, thus preventing me from gardening in what amounts to land the size of a postage stamp.  My enthusiasm has waned a little for me to go bounding into the garden with my trowel.  I haven't even given much consideration to what I want to plant this year.

Another reason for my reluctance is fear... well, more anxiety really.  Last year before it got really cold, I removed the strawberries and chives from their wine boxes and planted them in the ground.  Although the boxes were in terrible shape, I thought I might have further use for them and left them stacked upside down in the middle of my otherwise empty plot.  The last winter was the snowiest and windiest we've had here in years and the boxes were a bit tossed about and I never bothered to throw them out or restack them.  Now I'm dreading turning them over and finding a family of squirrels or worse, rats.  Although I suppose I would have heard from my all too vocal neighbors had that happened.

To end this post on a positive note, here's a lovely poem from one of my favorites, Robert Browning.  I echo the first two lines - whether it's April or not.

O, TO be in England
Now that April 's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf	5
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England—now!
And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!	10
Hark, where my blossom'd pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's edge—
That 's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture	15
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!	20