Red Mel is coming to stay for a couple of days next week. Rather than disturbing our perfectly adequate sleeping arrangements I’ve decided that she can sleep in the teenager’s bedroom in the attic. I have been contemplating the not inconsiderable job of getting it ready for her arrival but have finally bitten the bullet this week.
Now I tend to avoid going up to Louis’ room. When I have managed to psyche myself up to go up there in the past I’ve been known to scream. Let’s just say his cleanliness and tidiness don’t match my own standards. These are, by the way, very reasonable and rational and do not match the OCD description that he gives me.
So I’ve been up on the second floor giving it a good spring clean including the unenviable but inevitable task of cleaning the seagull shit off the velux windows. I’ve spread the job over two days because it’s been so hot and my energy isn’t back to pre-Covid levels yet.
To be honest it wasn’t too bad up there. I’ve only had to remove one bin bag of rubbish. But then again I did a deep clean just a few months ago while my son was in residence. I got a good telling off for the invasion of his privacy but was fearful of rats moving in if I didn’t act! But, in spite of moving a car load to Cardiff there’s still so much stuff. Today’s picture was taken just after I redecorated a few years ago. Aside from the leaky green beanbag that I threw out and a different duvet cover all the things in this picture are still up there.
And I know it’s too really early to ask this but it begs a question. When is it time to reclaim the teenager’s bedroom? Without his stuff it would make a rather lovely bolthole in the sky as well as a proper spare room. After all it’s the only place in the house with a sea view and the light is incredible. It could be a lovely crafting space with a sofa bed for guests. And there’s loads of storage space that Hot Stuff has his beady eye on. I have to come to terms with the fact that the men in my life do not want to embrace minimalism.
At the moment though it seems too early. I think we’re at a transition phase. Louis still sees this space as his and he’s at a experimental stage in his life. It might not work out in Cardiff and I wouldn’t want him to feel unwelcome here. But when does the time come when it’s okay to pack away the plastic toys and the cuddlies?