Wild Musings Day 4 with Renee Magnusson
I’d never really thought about it until today, but I do get a strange kind of pleasure from imagining myself in other people’s homes, sitting in different chairs, looking out at different scenes, wondering, “How would I feel living here, sitting here, looking out here and getting the most awful news?” I’m not sure why it’s always awful news but it’s looking for comfort perhaps. Would I feel comforted here? Moreso than in my own home? What can I change? I know the surroundings would make no difference—would I even notice the plush cream carpet at such a moment? Of course not, but I love imagining. I’m pet-sitting this week, just dropping by my friend’s house, and haven’t tried out the different chairs. Because I did it last time I pet-sat for her. So I already know the views, the softness of each chair. It feels sneaky somehow which I suppose is where the guilty part comes in. Just call me Goldilocks.
I love walking or driving past lit windows at night and imagining the people behind the glass: their lives, their hopes, dreams and tragedies. And imagining myself living there, coming home after a rough shift, up that garden path, unlocking that front door, what warmth lies beyond.
Renee’s mention of ‘Dirty Dancing’ reminds me of Nora as I first watched it with her. I worked for Nora through the Outreach part of my organisation so I went to her home to care for her. Nora had MS which resulted in her being a quadriplegic. But we were fairly close in age and she liked to spend Saturday nights (my shift) watching a rented movie with popcorn. She was delighted to learn that I’d never seen ‘Dirty Dancing’, one of her all time favourite movies. So we watched it together, both of us delighting in hot buttered popcorn, the story and Patrick Swayze. Watching movies, really getting into them, especially with buttered popcorn, at any time of the day remains high on my pleasure list.
I also never miss an episode of Survivor or the Great British Baking Show or the Canadian Baking Show. I used to devour Forensic Files and real life murder shows but since working steady midnights by myself in a big apartment building I don’t indulge in that pleasure so much as I’m more liable to terrify myself while working remembering some of the shows.
And then there’s Spotify and the endless mixed mood lists that I create—hundreds and hundreds of songs. This pleasure began as a teenager taping songs from the radio, my cassette player’s mic pushed up against it, trying to eliminate any background noise. Spotify makes it so much easier!
step by step, hand in hand
Welcome! I'm Sue Blott: a writer of all things, a poet at heart, mom, wife, daughter, step-mom, grandma, tea drinker, tai chi-er, mystic, artist, dreamer...and now a blogger! This is my world.