I find my new life in a 10,000 sq ft warehouse charming in its oddity.
But when we were negotiating the financing to build this place, I was devastated in a completely different way than Honeydew by the enormity of its cost, a cost so high that also building a home of our own, or even buying a double wide, was simply out of the question. We would be living in our warehouse for quite some time, and life in a warehouse, I thought to myself, would be cold, sterile, and … cold. How could I transition from a career gal who’d already purchased a home of her own, modest no doubt, but a house nonetheless, to a warehouse dweller?
We’ve been in the warehouse now for 21 days, and my fears are laid to rest. It was quite cold in here at the start, but after Honeydew installed a woodstove-furnace-add-on that blasts heat, that issue was solved. And it’s hardly sterile, now that we’ve unpacked most of our things – everywhere I look, I’m surrounded by colorful, comfortable material objects of desire given to us by family and friends over the years. And I’ve realized that they are no less desirable because some of our walls are tin and some of our floors are concrete.
Today when I walked into our warehouse, I was filled with that all important sense of home, and gratitude. Right now, I’m even glad that we can’t rush right out and build our dream house. How much sweeter it will be to start this business completely from scratch, and then one day, as the morning light slants in through the north facing window in my office and highlights the steam rising from my coffee mug, to look over the books with Honeydew, and hear one of us say, we could do it. We could build next year.
For now, we are acting like the newlyweds we did not have time to be right after our wedding, spoiling each other and doing everything together, even making the mundane daily run to the post office as a pair. Yesterday, we called up a friend to get permission to cut down our first Christmas tree together, and had a ball driving up and down the roads, discussing the merits of the Charlie Browns and the thrills of the picture perfect Frasier firs.
In the end, we decided to take full advantage of our warehouse dwelling, with its 13 ft tin ceilings, and we cut down a monster Douglas Fir so tall that it hung off the end of Honeydew’s flatbed bee truck.
Another advantage to living in a warehouse: a garage door in one’s living room allows for easy 13 foot Christmas tree access.
Tonight, Honeydew and I piled every ancient, tacky ornament we collectively own onto the sturdy branches of the monster Christmas Tree, and wrapped it in mismatched lights, some of which blink, some of which do not work, and some of which are so old they’re pink, not red. We thank you, parents, for your hand me downs!
Roy supervised, refusing to wear Buck’s reindeer antlers.
Honeydew showed me the ornaments that are special to him.
And I showed him one that I love, that Campbell made for me a few years ago, and then we toasted to her arrival next week. I love it when my husband truly loves my friends. Somehow, it makes me love those friends all the more.
We talked about traditions, and Honeydew told me that it is good luck to have a bird’s nest in a Christmas tree.
I told him that I like to display small gifts on a Christmas tree’s branches, so we hung Baby It’ll’s new cowboy boots, a sweet gift from Sissy, who also bought a matching pair for Funcle How. I can hardly wait to take a picture of my Funcle and my It’ll in their boots together. Happy birthday, Funcle!
And at the end of the night, we collapsed on our hand me down couches and lost ourselves in our own reflections from the dusty mirror balls hanging on our tree. And we toasted each other, and our bees, and the beautiful oddities of our unusual life in our warehouse.
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