As much for the others, a lot of what is happening remains in the realm of the unnoticed. The wife job being closer to undercover agent, than the maid we ear mentioned so often. So here I am, forty something, and we find this small, ruin-down, downtown place. He said it would be temporary. But I cared for the space, and we are still here. Enduring the fact, it was not a nice apartment was out of the question. Taking on me to remodel, I repainted, changing some doorknobs, choosing window covering. We made it our own. The last thing we think about now, would be to give up our nest.  It had been carved with my sweat. Has become a feel of Punkish, Provence and Zenitude. This part of downtown is cold and feels sad, at first glance. Here, we created for ourselves a comfy bubble. We made us home, very much outside of any timeframe. We are not middle class, but rather we feel at home with little means. Not struggling either, we choose a very placid life. My joy comes from solid simple pleasures. I paid much attention to the daily life of my household, as if it is worth millions. When getting into the preparation of a homemade mayonnaise, dividing yolk from the egg white, choosing from a variety of flavored vinegar we have, adding dry mustard or garlic… I can really tell the truth from the lies, during a very quiet dedicated chore. For a moment, concentrating in making the kitchen tidier. I feel rewarded in such a way, just by grabbing a sponge to work on the cupboard’s doors cleanliness. Taking on me, to make a fresh Humus or Tzatziki from scratch. I am so proud to do good things for my family.