Is this a blue, boat home? The only blue in the home is the big, blue sea just outside.
A small foyer capped by a glass door encased in a wooden frame. The sun is overhead, casting a broad beam of light through the glass and onto the adjacent wall and mossy, green carpet. I can hear Dionne Warwick on the stereo singing about the, “windows of the world.” I consider resting on the rust-colored couch that my mother-in-law gave us as a wedding present, but I hate that old thing—the couch, not my mother-in-law, she’s cool and a worthy member of the legion of mothers and aunties in my life. So I will just stand here, just outside of the visual frame and take it all in. The sea is like a siren, beckoning me to explore its depths before returning home and back to life.
Dionne is still singing and the strings are doing their thing beneath her silky voice—this was before the nicotine co-opted her mind. This scene is very relaxing, although so much of it is hidden from my eye. I cannot see the kitchen, the dining area, or the den—this home strikes as the type that has a den. I do not know how many bedrooms are here, but I feel the pull of the sunroom. This home has to have a sunroom being so close to the water and all of this natural light. Perhaps I’ve watched too much HGTV, but this home has amazing curb appeal. It has good bones and a multi-million dollar view. It’s mine. My floatie on my blue boat home. Yep, it’s mine.