dad is going to build me a hanging bed of sorts. The new room is kind of small and I needed to find a way to fit all (or even some) of my things into this room. Originally I had planned on making a loft bed, which is like a bunk bed without the bottom bunk. While I was searching the internet, I ran across this picture and thought, well isn't that neat! Can't wait to see how it turns out, there will be pictures. Also, none of my things can really be brought into the room until we have that bit figured out. Don't wanna be moving things all over.
I type this as I lay on the floor of my bedroom in my parents' house. It occurs to me that growing up is not only hard to do (harder now with the economy, I hear), that it is also different for each of us. Six years ago I got married, moved out of the house, started a little family. That was what I thought growing up was about. Looks like I may have been wrong. Somewhere in that jumble of time the strong, witty and talented girl that I was became lost. She was replaced by someone I didn't recognize, but I just closed my eyes to the things I didn't like instead of doing something about it. I just finished reading Drunk, Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair by Crazy Aunt Purl and it enlightened me. Maybe...I am not so bad off. Now I start the journey to rediscover myself, armed with a battalion of friends, knitting needles, books, and that everlasting sense of humor my parents groomed...I might just make it outta here. For those of you who have been keeping tabs on me, my home is now in Georgia. Not my favorite place in the world, admittedly, but it's 
warm and my family is here. Though I have only slept in my room maybe twice in the last week that I have been here, it feels like mine again. The last three days were spent painting it. Personalizing things always makes them feel more like they belong. Like I belong.Kitty's Story
On My
PRGE Questionnaire (the third?)
8 in 2007/0 in 2008
