I have my own bathroom. I just realized this two days ago. For years and years my sister and I, or my mother and my sister and I, or my dad and my mother and my sister and I have been sharing bathrooms. Nomadic as we are, this never seemed uncommon to me, until I walked into the bathroom next to my bedroom (and what had been my sister's room across from mine, until she moved out a couple of months ago) and realized that I no longer had to pick up clothes off the floor. I no longer had to wipe down the sink because someone else didn't, or roll down the toothpaste because someone else forgot to. And my god! I could actually do my make-up in a decent mirror, and yes! The drawers were finally mine. I could light incense in there, and no one would complain, or I could have two matching towels hung up just for the simple stupid reason that they looked nice!
I was almost gleeful. I put all my various bottles of lotion on the counter, and added another basket to the wall, and put my one living plant (Henry, of course, in honor of that phallic bastard, Henry VIII who I actually am strangely fascinated by) in the corner next to the tub. I brought my silver jewelry box and set it just so, and all my make-up brushes went next too -- but not in front of -- the toothbrush cup. I smiled, knowing that if anything got moved it would be because I moved it, and that if I made a mess, well... That's okay too, it was mine to clean up and no one elses to comment on.
Am I sounding crazy here? It's just a bathroom, I know, but there have been years of shared space to fuel this glorious relief of having new personal space. I'm so ready for my own life, and finally I'm getting to a place where I don't feel guilty about it. (Don't ask, that's a whole other conversation. For a therapist). This bathroom feels like a badge of acknowledgment somehow.
Walking into that room (and let's face it, it is just a bathroom and a relatively ordinary one at that) gave me just one more inch more that I could claim as my own. Perhaps it's a bit self indulgent to wax poetic but the feeling of it... Yes, it was blissful. I'll say it. Having my own bathroom is blissful.
I am totally envious. I have yet to have a bathroom of my own; I have always shared mine with my little brother, who is much more of a slob than I am. I'm guilty of leaving a few things on the counter and not cleaning when I should, but certainly not leaving my clothes on the floor for days, stealing towels, or leaving more than one hair related appliance on the counter surrounded by things that shouldn't be in the bathroom...
ReplyDeleteI could've made that sentence longer but I shall cut myself off and reiterate that I'm jealous. I can't wait to have my own bathroom, and better yet a place of my own entirely.