I’m sitting in my living room, and with a fan going, the little fountain that provides the pet water gurgling, and the leaves fluttering outside three big windows, dancing in the light, there’s a tremendous sense of movement.
At Jed‘s place, nice as it is, the atmosphere is more that of a quiet cave, dark and still, shades drawn, often dimly-lit, silent. And I’m sure some people find that lovely and comforting, but it makes me incredibly claustrophobic. I get to Jed’s and start flinging open windows.
Good thing he loves me, and lets me do it. (Sometimes he even remembers to open the windows in advance for me…)
I would not do well in a tiny capsule hurtling through space, I’m afraid. Yet another reason I would make a terrible astronaut, despite childhood ambitions…