Home…

…is where the sheath rests.

I love my condo. Love, as in enough to spell out the word and not just put some little heart in lieu of it. But, I’m so rarely home that I tend to forget what it feels like sometimes. I was stuck home due to a little flu. So, I pondered. Then I took a nap. Then, more pondering.

I came to the realization that it’s not the condo I love, but the life I live while residing in it. The condo was kinda meant to be because it was a foreclosure and a good deal. If I’d had my way, I’d have a garage and a yard instead of a parking lot shared with 10 other cars and units. I know I’m lucky to have a home in this economy. And I know there are those who would love to have a home without a mortgage payment attached to it. But, truthfully, I’m never here. I’m always off playing pirate. The condo is just one huge closet and a bed to sleep in.

Hell, one whole room is the devoted Man-Cave where the Soldier keeps his guns and swords and knives. We decided to give him one room to decorate and exist in when he needs to do work and the like. I have a little cubby behind a shoji screen in the living room to do my computer work. I’d rather be cramped. It keeps me from getting more junk I don’t need. But, even I have my specified drawers and closet space devoted entirely to wardrobe and weapons. We both have our spaces that define our versions of creativity and our dress-code.

But our swords hang right next to each other on the wall. There’s a full length mirror and on each side of it is a 28″ light sword from Starfire. Mine, I retired after getting a cutlass. His, I got him for Valentine’s Day. And at the end of the day, we hang our swords from the wall and relax in the condo. Perhaps that’s what really makes me love the condo. Not the building, not the bed, but the life that’s inside of it. This perfectly dysfunctional and romantic little life I live where I’m a pirate swept off her feet by a Soldier.

The Soldier, by the way, stayed home for the better part of the day to take care of me since I was icky. Hopefully the hot tea and the comfy clothes will ward off the flu enough for me to keep my scheduled singing on…schedule.

So, sorry for the lack of piratical insight today. But when you’re feeling this icky, getting into a corset just isn’t an option.