House Sweet Home

After Friendsgiving dinner, my cohorts and I took advantage of this thing my parents have called Table Topics, which are basically questions designed to foster discussion. One of the ones I pulled was "What makes a house a home?" Now, I know I was probably supposed to answer something like "love" or "the sound of children's laughter" or some such, but my response was far more pragmatic. I have lived in places, primarily in England, where I was with people I cared about and yet did not feel my house was really my home, and that's because I was living on other people's furniture and staring at other people's questionable paintings of Venice over the mantelpiece. 

What really makes a house a home, to me, is interior decorating. It doesn't have to be a lot, it doesn't have to be fancy or expensive, but just a shot of personality makes such a difference in feeling like you are home as opposed to renting out someone else's.

I've previously mentioned that the down/upside in moving to the new place is that it wasn't furnished. Beds, table/chairs in the kitchen and a kind of down trodden sofa are really all we had. Today, though, I went shopping with Jason and his boyfriend and came back with bins, storage boxes and—are you ready for this?—TWO bookshelves. Two! Plus we now have a piano left us by friends who went back to America, along with a coffee table and a little cabinet left by Anne and another coffee table swiped from the Institute's trash. Slowly, slowly, it's becoming like a home. Jason and I might try for an IKEA run on Wednesday, which would just bring me so much joy, especially as the cups are changed and I'm itching to get some Christmas stuff up.

Plus! I had a huge grocery delivery yesterday. If I could add more to the list of things that make a house a home, I would have to include a well stocked pantry, beer and jazz music. Because those are also pretty sweet.