I dreamt in Swedish last night. The only thing I can really remember is standing close to where I took the ferry to go out to Linanäs, talking to some people about how to get to a place called Hötorget. I got up with Sweden on my mind.
I have a long weekend of work–things to get done for at least half of tomorrow, my usual day off, a meeting scheduled at the last minute for Saturday morning. Then, the hardest–I have been asked to do a funeral in Spanish on Sunday afternoon, at a funeral home, for a young man I don’t know who was killed in a hit and run. I gather the family is a mixture of lapsed Evangelical and Roman Catholic folks who have no community or pastor to tend to them in this awful time. I escaped from work early because of all that.
With a quiet afternoon by myself, I cooked in Swedish too–took out my scale that measures in grams and mL measurement cups to make a batch of Kardemummbullar. I am giving them all away except one Sherod and I will share–we don’t need to be eating more than a tiny bit of this kind of food. But oh, the smell in my kitchen.
And somehow, that got me thinking about one of the things I liked the best about the cottage we stayed in earlier this month. For a long time when I was younger, I fantasized about a bathroom with a jacuzzi, one of those ‘rainforest’ showers, a skylight, and a vanity with his and hers sinks. You couldn’t pay me enough to have anything like that now. In fact, I have a new ideal:
There’s a very good washing machine right next to the ‘loo. The shower has doors that swing in and out. They close really tightly when you go in to have a shower so the bathroom doesn’t get all soaked but tuck out of the way the rest of the time. There’s a drain in the middle of the floor which makes it súper easy to clean the whole floor really well. When you aren’t using the shower, it is very easy to load and unload the washing machine. And all the plumbing is out against the wall–maybe not really pretty, but sure beats frozen pipes in the brutal winters of Sweden.
If you want some style, it is not all totally utilitarian–an IKEA sink isn’t so bad to look at. The cieling is lovelyy to look at when you are rinsing the shampoo out of your hair. And of course, those amazingly wonderful towel warmers. I can’t quite capture how utterly luxurious it feels to reach for a towel that’s toasty warm on a chilly morning.
These pictures are going into the ‘wish book’ for life after the life we are beginning to wind down in South Florida. If you come visit in that next place, I hope you don’t want too much luxury. Less is more…