It is my nightly ritual to get into bed at around 1:00 am and read until I’m drowsy enough to sleep. The other night, I put my book down and surveyed my bedroom. I was suddenly overcome with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia for it, if it’s possible to feel nostalgia for the present. My husband walked in and I blurted out, “I’m going to miss this bedroom when I’m dead.” Instead of being pissed off about how morbid I am, he surprised me by laughing and saying, “Well, then you have it better than some people!”

I just love my bedroom! I love our big bed, nicknamed Snuggy if you must know. I love the art on the walls and the heavy velvet curtains from Ikea. I love my antique dresser covered with piles of jewelry and religious shit. I love my thriftshop chinoiserie and crappy velvet chair.

It struck me today that there must be lots of things I’ll miss when I’m dead. And that I should start appreciating them now while I can. I think we should all do this.

I’ll start:

I will miss burgers and fries, Pollo Loco chicken, and chips and salsa. I’ll miss frozen Indian dinners. I’m already starting to miss the first cup of morning coffee after the coffee machine does a little song.

I’ll miss Nicole Wallace on MSNBC. She seems so incredibly nice besides being smart and funny.  I’ll probably miss that SNL guy who does an uncanny  and hilarious imitation of Trump. I’ll miss hearing my favorite songs on the car radio. Obviously I can hear them any time I want to, but everyone knows it’s the surprise that makes it feel like a gift.

I’ll miss getting packages from Sephora. Free shipping and easy returns!

I’ll miss changing my nail polish. It’s relaxing and it makes me feel arty.

I’ll miss my favorite thriftshop, where the octogenarian volunteers start calling our “We’re closing” every five minutes, starting 45 minutes before closing time.

I will miss exchanging pleasantries with strangers, which always makes me feel like a human being. I’ll miss our Christmas Eve parties, which remind  me that I’m lucky to have people I love, who love me back.

I’ll miss the triumph of returning something to Zara even after washing it twice, like I did today with some awful baggy jeans.

Of course I’ll miss my husband but not as much as he’ll miss me (because he’ll have to get into Snuggy alone). And I’ll miss my darling dog, Kora.

That’s about it for now. How about you? I really want to know!

Here’s me in my house where I’ve lived for nearly forty years. There’s Pico, too. And the fake deer head that was a present from my friend Mark, because we laughed at in in a catalog. I don’t know why I’m scowling or why it looks like I’m packing a dick. I must have had my reasons.

We sold our house! We bought a cheaper house in another seaside community that hasn’t been gentrified yet with cafes that serve eight dollar toast. Venice is ruined, pretty much, by the Google employees and property developers who eat that toast.

So, now we will begin a new era in a new house that isn’t cluttered with forty years of collecting, hoarding, storing and piling things and we will be leaving behind a rich history of tragedy and joy. There are two dogs buried in the back yard. There’s a mural of a mermaid rising from the sea that covers an entire bedroom wall. Max’s girlfriend painted it over three days, after which little Charlie exclaimed: “No, I said I DIDN’T want a mermaid!” I hope I remember to take a picture of her.

Now I’ll get to the point. I’ve never decorated a house, not consciously. I know what I hate in terms of style, but not what I want. I want a light, airy environment that is suitable for a wood frame house built around 1913, with a big front porch and a big yard that needs to be landscaped. I don’t like ‘mid-century modern’ and I don’t like ‘early American’ either. AND we will have a tight budget.

Who wants to help? I need ideas! Decorating websites! Places to buy furniture that aren’t Ikea or one of those awful chain stores. What curtains should I get for all those windows? All tips and advice are welcome! Here is the one thing that I find reassuring about the  move – I will have a pink bathtub.

‘A long lost underground classic video from The What, the greatest band never heard. Originally titled “In Praise of Militant Feminism of the Most Exotic Varieties”, Bacchus Racchus takes us back to the Dionysian revelry of the golden age, utter abandonment and surrender, the sacred act of letting go and embracing freedom and pleasure.’

(Max on lead guitar, my nephew up in the tree and losing his eyeballs.)