I have officially become a bottom dweller– or should I say a basement dweller.

I live in a 1950s home without central air and the livingroom A/C unit doesn’t provide the relief I need at night (not to mention it’s a shameless energy hog!). And so I ventured downstairs in hopes of more restful sleep.

The basement bedroom doesn’t have the modern conveniences of the main floor. Those things haven’t gained entry into this sacred space where time stands still.

No alarm clock. No radio. Instead I find dated curtains & ceiling tiles, aqua-colored walls, the white noise of a humming fan, and a book on the nightstand dimly lit by the lamp beside it.

I’m transported back to my grandparents’ basement back when technology didn’t exist & connectivity was not a concern. I find no reminders of the responsibilities & burdens that exist on the main floor. And I don’t miss them.

I’m on retreat without leaving my house & I have a whole summer to enjoy it. Perhaps this won’t be a seasonal solution afterall.