Once upon a time...my husband (then boyfriend) went to college at
Michigan Technological University. For those unfamiliar with the
vagaries of Michigan, Tech (as it's affectionately known) is
waaaaaaaaaaay up near the top of the Upper Peninsula. It's covered with
snow and ice from pretty much November until May-ish. It's not unlike
the snow planet of Hoth.
So anyway, when he was at school
there, he lived with a bunch of other techie/engineer-y/nerdy type guys
in a rundown copper mining era house that was once gorgeous and now
smelled and looked like decades upon decades of college boys had lived
there. That house had been ridden hard and put away wet. Repeatedly.
But there was a room in this house. A special room. A room like no
other. It was called The Beach. In a former life, it was probably a
closet or a super tiny nursery or maid's room. But when these guys moved
in, it became The Beach.
They blocked off the threshold of
the room with a couple 2 x 4s, filled the room with sand, taped beach
posters and Tropicana tanning oil ads to the wall, mounted an old school
carcinogenic sun lamp to the wall and hung a hammock from corner to
corner. There was also a bamboo beaded curtain that hung in the doorway.
I thought I had a picture of it in an old photo album, but unfortunately, I can't find
it.
They loved
this room. There was even a beach schedule taped to the hallway wall. If
one of the guys wasn't using it, their friends would come and use it in
return for beer. People at this school were so desperate for warmth and
sunlight that they'd pay for it with booze.
Never have I
missed The Beach like I do this winter. I am so sick of snow that
I would cheerfully fill a room with sand and sunlamps and just *wallow*
for hours. I'm not even a "beach person," but I have to admit. It
sounds good right now. Of course, the cats would probably like it, too. But for entirely different reasons.
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