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Saturday, March 26, 2016

Tranced Out House Hunt

Very early this morning in Dreamsville, I was on the Cape with a ton of my eons-long friends. We were, as a big group, house hunting.

The strectch of Cape we were on was relatively unpopulated with a rocky beach and no other dwellings in sight. Yeah, so this was, mebbe, 100 years ago or so. There are no unpopulated places left down there – not in summer anyway.

We were being shown a huge, ramshackle couple of buildings – a large studio with a separate apartment-like house. Both were built on stilts and weathered to the point that we wondered how they could still be standing.

We started with the studio building. There were no steps leading in – we had to climb scaffolding – a jungle gym-ish affair to get inside. FUN but *groan.* I wondered if I could manage this every single day. Everyone else had already zoomed up, giggling all the way. *sigh*

This was a three story structure. A duplex with odd, mysterious, we-def-don’t-wanna-meet-them, tenants on one side. The interior of our side was set up like the Paradiso Concert Hall in Amsterdam – an old church with two balcony-like tiers, the center being open. In our dream basilica/art space there were potters wheels and hand building tables lining all the walls of the second and third floors. The kilns were in the center space on the first.

This appeared to be either a ceramics school or group studio with, I imagined, the other joint being the artisans/ flophouse, commissary and lounge. Was this cool or WHAT?! Yes, yezzzz it was indeed.

To get over to the living quarters, we had to clamber up the sand dunes – more grousing whines from me while, I figured, everyone else was enjoying the fuck outta themselves.

Once over the ridge, we were on the back porch which appeared to be an old, 1930s era, railway platform. Wow, such awesome atmosphere.

I was magnificently intrigued – SO much tremendous studio space all swimming in WICKED amounts of duende and way, way, excellent, unconventional fun! At the same time I felt nervous. Why? While the place was def ancient, it seemed in solid shape and not REALLY about to fall down plus, BONUS, tons of fabulously interesting space and it was on the ocean! Seemed full of win, yes? Yes?

I asked Lily for her impressions. I trust Lily’s judgement in real life and, apparently, in Dreamworld too.  She allowed that all the climbing/no stairs  was rough for her – she didn’t think she could do that every single day. Huh. Lily has a rock solid set of balance nerves, NO Nf2 and is in relatively good shape – unlike yurs truly. If she was OK with taking a pass on this otherwise wonderful set up, maybe it’d be OK if I voted the same.

In the end, I told our house hunting team that I couldn’t, as much as I wanted, live there. I could’ve done it in my 20s and 30s – 40s even – but my time of daily scaffolding climbs and monster dune ascents had past.

And I was OK with that. Wistful but OK.

And then our less than ferocious, ex-feral climb up onto my chest and said It’s time for my brekky, wench. WAKE UP!

Moral of the story? I think I'm accepting my limitations. Not thrilled but I'm not devastated and denying either.

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