Happy Place

The last few months has felt quite similar to trudging through a field of sinking mud. if there were such a thing. While exciting, is very draining physically and emotionally. A couple of weeks ago I came up with a remedy to this feeling, something

attainable and relevant to my big picture. forts. While this may seem childish, much like the tree house concept, think about how genius it sounds to build yourself a happy place during times of emotional unrest if you are physically unable to go to your usualone. Of course the picture in my head surpassed what I was able to build initially...(I found this on google and LOVE it)...But I ended up with a quaint and aesthetically pleasing product in the end.

The weather was beautiful and since my sliding window opens to a flat and pleasantly accommodating roof, I figured "why not build myself a sanctuary (fort) out here". I imagined a classic teepee on the street-side roof of my inner-city apartment building. I bought beautiful fabric and decided I would figure out the technicalities as I went. Bad idea. There was nothing to stabilize the long sticks i found in the basement and the chairs I tried using for draping blew over with the wind. My best idea stringing together soccer socks creating a makeshift rope I then attached to a flowerpot hook and tied the fabric to at the bottom. This way the fabric hung at ease and all I had to do was weigh it down. I brought out pillows, blankets, and even a small lantern-style light, it was every four year old's dream. Turns out, the it wasn't weatherproof. I took everything down except the string of soccer socks before sundown.

If it wasn't enough to have the shame of a failed fort hanging over my head, the hanging socks created an inconsistent but badgering sound similar to that of a rusty swing-set. For three days I listened to the sounds reminiscent to a horror movie while coming up with a new plan. I have now transplanted the fabric, pillows, blankets, and lantern into the space between my bed and the slanted incline of the ceiling. A space big enough for one person and oodles of thoughts.