ABOUT PRIVACY: Part I: Making a Basic Bedroom More - a Suite of Spaces

Melissa has the smallest bedroom in our home, 11 x 15 feet. Not bad actually. Still it's just a basic rectangle-shaped bedroom. But as you'll see, it can be made into something more. 
(Click on any of the pictures for a larger view.)

It has lovely northern and western light. Melissa's moved her bed to the outer corner of the room so it's framed by the two large 4-foot-wide windows, and is farthest from the bathroom she shares with Stephen. They tend to use the bathroom about the same time in the mornings, so it doesn't disturb her sleep, but she likes the outer space for her bed.

She prefers a removed feel for her work area, so I suggested she place her desk  in the corner where it's also flooded diagonally by natural light, which happens to be northern light. The best. 

Below and in the plan, you see that the wall her door opens onto also leads to her closet and its door, so major furniture tends to be placed on the window side, making the room feel overly-weighted on the far end. But as is, if her door is ajar, you can see directly into her room from anywhere on the landing. So most people using this room will do exactly that. There's no sense of privacy if she wants her door open, which in our house is an invitation to say hello.

Essentially, you can add privacy to a box of a bedroom like this by creating an entry into the room. There are several ways to do this, and you get a bonus when you do - more activity niches for yourself!

You can create these spaces as easy temporary DIY additions which you'll see here. I'll talk about more permanent options in Part II.

THE TEMPORARY, EASY FIX

The simplest, most flexible fix can be done in any room (rented or owned) by creating an entry alcove with something vertical that acts as a visual divider. Be as creative as fits your soul! I'll work the principle here with a shelf-unit, but you could use ceiling-hung fabric, an art panel, a textural wood piece, or anything that appeals. I like shelves or cabinets because they offer additional storage.  So here's what happens if you use one 6-foot shelf:

Placing just one tall shelf facing the entrance just inches beyond the entry door's full open swing creates a new path of entry that requires a turn before they see into your room. (Also notice that since this is earthquake country, I have anchored the end of the shelf to the wall with a piano hinge. This secures the shelf, but allows it to be easily rotated against the wall for moving larger furnishings in and out.)

Interestingly enough, an open-backed shelving or a divider works just as well; either draws the eye as someone approaches, so the onlooker's vision is foreshortened. It depends on how private a feel you need, and how much light you'd like passing through this "wall" you've created.

Now decide if you want the stuff on the shelves facing the entry as decor to intrigue, or facing the space you've created behind the unit. (You can hang a picture on the back for visitors to see as they pass or enter.) Maybe find or make a unit that has some of each?

Plus, you have this new niche behind the shelf. There's enough space for a small upholstered chair where you might read by all the natural light of that large window. Maybe with a tiny ottoman. You also have balanced the room's furnishing better as well. 

People will tend to walk into the room straight towards the desk unless they plan to sit on the bed. If you're reading my posts, you'll note right now there's "wasted square footage," that could be put to use along that wall. We placed Melissa's hot water kettle and tea set-up on a small, low carved table just behind her within easy reach, with her favorite books on a series of wall-mounted shelves above. It creates a vertical element that's very special to her, and it feels quite delicate and intimate. She likes her space spare, and only wants a picture on the wall. So for her, that space is where she kneels to prepare tea as she works, or stands to scan her treasured books.














Okay, if creating a sitting niche right by your closet isn't appealing, you can move the shelf or divider further back as you see in this second iteration, to allow the space for a second shelf perpendicular to the entry door. See what this does:

These units should be just high enough to cover what you want covered. You do not need to go high on both, and want light moving easy around these walls you create. So you might make one 6-foot tall, while another is 3 or 4-foot  high. 

You now have a protected entry. Hang some pictures along the left wall? Put a changing display on the shelf? A photo montage or collection you own? You are drawing your visitor deeper into the room before they turn to see where you are. While doing so, you get to choose what they see along the way. There's also a nice feeling of entry here and waiting to be invited in.

In addition, you have created a large alcove behind the perpendicular shelf. If it wasn't against the bathroom wall, you could put your bed against that low shelf using it as a headboard,or make it a seating nook with a comfy chair, or a creative task area. Music listening/making corner and collection? Up to you.

If you draw a plan of your room on graph paper to scale, you can play with the width of these two pieces to find more alcove variations. The shelves or dividers are creating circulation paths into your room. Directing these paths lets you add an activity area, and their heights and transparency lets you choose how much visibility you want that activity to have.

So if, for example, you're comfortable letting someone see over the perpendicular unit, keep it low. Try shortening it to about half the length that I show above. Doing so moves your "entry" more into the room's center allowing you to push the larger unit facing the door closer in. That allows you to fit a hamper right next to the closet, hidden from view.  As long as you leave 36 inches as your entry opening, it should flow nicely. Play.

And what you choose to use, and put on any shelves becomes another expression of you. Nice.

The Gift of the Group

I'm realizing that there's another layer of motivation to doing this project than just reaching for the companionship and energy that collective living offers me. Even beyond the delight of space designing my house. There's a layer under that, that is starting to bubble up to the surface. Because at last it can.

If I think about it honestly, sharing my home means having to do less. Less of the obligatory and the responsible, and more that is quite personal. And that's a healthy thing! It gives me time to find what must come from deep inside me and act upon it. How often do we have the time these days to do that?

Years ago, my beloved hubby and I tried doing it all ourselves. We did the tree-hugging, "back-to-the-land" lifestyle on10 acres in Washington. We were by ourselves because no other family lived in the state, and because my husband didn't trust strangers to hold true as a family would. We also had two young children. Even in our early 30's it was an huge task to create that from scratch on raw acreage. And, it became an overwhelming amount of work to maintain; ask anyone trying their own version of radical homemaking or urban homesteading. It is one of the reasons I do not have my husband anymore. We were trying to be supermom and dad and super global citizens all at once. 

I will also tell you that living all those values as just a nuclear family was very lonely at times. Everyone was a car ride away. Think about it. If you are trying not to get into that car until you have multiple errands and places to go, and if you are trying not to waste resources and conserve, then you do not hop into a vehicle every time you just ached to rub shoulders with a friend who is miles away. Nurturing yourself kinda settles to the bottom of barrel.  

So now, have those old priorities lost importance? Just the reverse. Those values are all the more dear to me, but I'm seeking another path to them now. One not so burdensome, or lonely, so I can achieve it.

Dunno if I'm wiser now that I'm older, but at least I've learned. I've learned that relying on someone else's muscles is okay. I've learned that reaping the benefit of their fascinations, inclinations, and strengths, enriches me. And now I am also realizing that their presence gives me breathing space.

And precious time. 

Time to relax, and exhale or walk to see a friend...just because. And even more to the point, living this way gives me time to explore all sorts of interests, some they've stimulated as well as my own. The time lets me delve into all those passions I discover I want to improve. To deepen. 

So if I look honestly at my own motivations, there's a real desire to use the collective as a gift for my own pursuits. But see then here's the thing: Being who I am, and still reaching for those values now means I get to focus on what skills I want to bring into the way I live. To train in skills that are important, and intensify my expertise. And that allows me to become more resilient, a deeper resilience that grows from the explore and the pursuit. (At least in the ways that I can, being who I am right now.)

Altogether then, I'm seeing that collective living, the intentional community impulse is in total harmony with transitioning into local resilience, and the Transition Town movement. They are interwoven for me, one fabric. Intertwined, they allow me, and anyone seeking that part of themselves, to seek and exploit my own resilient strengths.  

So now, what do I choose to make of this gift?

A Gathering of the Feminine

I went to listen.

I wanted to hear the concerns and goals, and meet the people who took time out of their current living situations to talk about and consider living in a women centered collective.

We ranged in age from 30-60 something. We sat around a table in a relaxed commons kitchen in Oakland. And after a bit of ritual and appetizer tasting, we took turns speaking about what we each wanted from a place shared with others. Feelings that could lead to a vision statement for such a collective.

How did we each really want to live?

Phrases like developing relationships as a focus rather than commodity ownership were spoken. Honoring, both elders and others, and growing a culture of health. A love of warmth, sun and moisture. Wanting integrity and commitment that one can rely upon. A joy in movement, ritual, and music,.. and the smell of fresh earth. Time for meditation,  for family. Wanting the joy of doing together, and many hopes for extended family and layered circles of friendship. Being bodily comfortable. Simplified, meaningful living. A need for creativity as a part of everyday. I added talent sharing and asked for a stepping up to the bar with one's skills, but pairing that with a release to another's skilled lead.

And after all the wishes and ideals came up, Abigail spoke eloquently about the reality of community living. That what we meet over the initial months, and what we bring to the initial months is not all. Ultimately over time whatever we are personally working on will come to the table too, ours and everyone else's. The public personae will fall away, and that's as it should be. She knew that it was at that point that true relationship and deep connections happen.

For two hours, I sat amongst a group of women who for the majority had not met each other before. We never once needed to chit chat about favorite movies, or the weather. We started the conversation at a deep, yet comfortable place for us all. Real.

So why am I drawn to those who hunger for collective living, you ask?

Phase I: BEFORE - The Grand Toad

She is our house's namesake - Toadhall - our great room in the back. And the reason we bought this place.  

Let me set the scene: An expansive 42' x 23' room, mostly green plexiglass for walls. One pane has a smiley face scratched into it. Eleven foot high wooden ceilings with amazingly heavy support beams, a huge10' x 18' multiple-paned skylight in the middle.  
 
Where there are walls, they're covered with ugly brown exterior siding that matches the dark brown, cream and, yes, orange back porch you reach through double glass sliders from the kitchen. 

Phase I - KITCHEN #4 - The Extra Fridge

So along with all this rearranging in our kitchen, I did an experiment with my fridge. Originally back in December, I decided to buy a housemate fridge. That meant finding a place for it. I decided that if I bought one just a bit smaller, it would fit into the fridge alcove. But then our fridge needed to move. Where? I wanted to try next to the dishwasher. To see how that would feel, TJ, Rae and I moved our fridge over right after we did the chimney  (Part #1 in this series), and created the new work stations (Part #2). Could we get used to the fridge right there, or would it feel in the way?

To our surprise, it felt terrific!

For years we had moved around the island as shown to the left to prepare a meal. We got our food from the fridge, dumping the fixings on the small side of the island that was most reachable. Then we carried it all to the sink to clean, to then carry it to the other small side of the island to chop and throw into pots, or walked all the way to the far corner of the kitchen to pop things into the microwave. Because our micro is also a convection oven, we use it a great deal, cooking rice, and steaming veggies.
                                                                                                                             But as you see here, meal prep now lives in two tighter triangles on one side of the island. When we open our fridge, we place the washables immediately on the sink counter. Turn around and we're right where we need to cook. The microwave is closer to the prep areas too. And when our housemates are prepping food at their new stations, we're not in their way.


 So we kept the new position for our fridge, and purchased a new fridge for our housemates that just fit into the existing alcove you see in the plan below:

 

And there's more. Here's a sneak peak into Phase 2.

As you see here, I've noted a new, decently-sized alcove where the housemate fridge will ultimately go when we finish Phase 2 (Click to get a slide show of all pictures.) Creating that new space - and buying a fridge that opens in the proper direction- allows their fridge to open right onto the edge of the purple area where they prepare food.


It's not ideal since our housemates must move into the rose colored area when they need to wash or cook. If I had the budget, I'd put a second sink into the new counter by the chimney. (Maybe that will be a Phase 3 in future.) Doing that would create circulation triangles on each side of the island.

For now, it's working.

I love how piles of chopped fresh food fill the butcher blocks. Being vegetarian, Stephen likes to use the main island area to cut up his many assorted veggies. Then he grabs a bunch with both hands, reaches straight across to drop them into the hot pan on the stovetop. It sizzles.

We all take turns at the sink, cooktop or microwave, chattering about our day.

Spring Cleaning

I organized a group clean today. Sunday.

I decided on a late morning 2 hours, figuring everyone could sleep in, and still have all afternoon to do as they wished. I tried hard not to overplan the task, but this morning I offered and even pushed a little to do it to music. It's a cover really. I have no experience or clarity about dividing up the tasks, and I'm trying to balance my push and organizing with the proverbial "spoon full of sugar."

While I coordinated our date and time last week, I suggested an ordered list to work top down. Then today I just suggested each person do a room. TJ said he'd do the kitchen, but when no one specifically wanted any other space, I assigned rooms. I provided multiple buckets and rags, spray bottles of our fresh smelling cleaner, and offered everyone rolls of paper towels. We were off.

I admit suggesting a task order satisfied my need to tell everyone what I wanted done. "Start by knocking down spiderwebs and ceiling dust." (That's something even my professional cleaners never consistently did. Granted, they were a cooperative of small Latina women, and while I loved how well they cleaned, the tops of my 6-foot bookshelves didn't get cleaned every time either.) So now, by giving everyone the direction to, "wipe all the bookshelves, including the tops, and picture frames", I was saying "I want you to be sure to do this." 

But I sounded nicer.

I don't have multiples of everything. We are sharing the ceiling duster, the window cleaner and two brooms, and that actually is a good thing. It keeps us interacting with each other, even as we work our own rooms. Like a wolf pack rubbing shoulders as they run."Oh, you're here. I feel that."

Two great things happened. Well, many things actually. My house is Spring clean and without saying so, we all decided to leave the curtains pulled back and the blinds pulled completely up so the sunlight fills the rooms.

And everyone found their own rhythm as their own style of cleaning took over. It worked well. They asked if they wanted direction, and I was aware of the different work patterns. Some were systematic. Others were not. Some stayed to their room. Others wandered beyond, and helped in the next room, or wandered outside finding another I'll-just-clean-this-too  task. Setting the two hours as cleaning time gave everyone a framework to keep going, and allowed enough deep cleaning by our five people of different cleaning levels to make a nice difference. We felt like we had a clean house. And we did it together.

For me, what was best beyond it happening really well together, was cleaning didn't overwhelm me. This is a big house. I don't do all I want to do because there's just too much. Today, I took the downstairs bathroom and the laundry room, and with only two rooms to focus on, I could really drill down and clean them. I wiped the washer and dryer inside and out, and was able to wash the filter and scrub away the grunge that builds up in the curved corners of the metal lids and agitator that no one has time to worry about. I did that for my housemates who use someone else's appliances. And I did it for me.

We have Phase II construction starting in 3 weeks, and all this pretty clean will get messed up. Hell, the stove got splattered during dinner tonight. But then we will come together again in June to clean away the dust and grime of our new place. Together. It was the best cleaning day I've every had!

 

The Gift

While we sat at dinner last night I heard the vacuum cleaner turn on upstairs. 

Being Sunday, I assumed it was TJ’s son doing his weekly chores in his room. You know, the quick electric broom sweep around anything that's fallen on his bedroom floor. But it went on too long. Then the to and fro motor sounds told me the landing was being cleaned, methodically. Definitely not Raj. 

Melissa? She offered to do it  a few weeks ago when we asked for a dusting in anticipation of a new housemate’s arrival. But we hadn’t asked today at all. (In fact, I was planning on coordinating a group cleaning day one Sunday mid-April to see how that felt and get us all into the habit of sharing the task.  ‘Fraid it’s too many years a mom, and project manager.)

As I cleared the table, the clunk of the heavy machine was being worked down the treads. Twenty minutes later, Stephen carried the vacuum back to the laundry room. 

“Wow, Stephen, what a gift! Thanks for doing the stairs and landing.”

So here’s the thing: He shrugged in a surprised way as if to say, “Huh? Well, as long as I was vacuuming my suite…yeah, of course. No biggie.”

I tried to explain that living in this household with just our own kids meant cleaning was a “learn-to-maintain-yourself-if-you-ever-want-to-be-independent” lesson. Always. It was perpetual parental push (or a give-in and just get it done) exercise. And it was the norm for so long that I was totally surprised by Stephen's choice to do more. What was needed in the moment. 

There was this emotional rush through me…   “Yeah, this is what it feels like to live with other adults in my house. Even ones who are my kids’ peers. People who have lived on their own for even a bit take possession of and pride in their space. And yes I may be more welcoming than some other owners, but I tell you, we’ve lucked out!

I sent them both a thank you email this morning to return the emotional rush, ...just a little.

Phase I Two Housemates and Us

Stephen, our second housemate moved in two days ago over the weekend. 

He left for his first day of work on Monday, and was gone fairly early this morning.

We were moving around the kitchen a bit later this morning, making our assorted breakfasts and TJ turned to me,

” It feels strangely empty to have everyone gone from the house.”

“Hmm you mean, now they everyone has gone to work?”

“It feels a little too quiet.”

Yes!

If At First You Don't Succeed -

There are lots of folks out there who love to garden. My partner TJ and I have really bad joints, and never developed the love of it. Still, we are drawn to the idea of using our large corner lot for food production, and we very much want control over what we eat.

Six years ago we reached out and found nine other folks to share a garden effort here. We hoped that scale would allow us to make a great wonderful organic garden, and offer some gardener a part-time paid position. We all chipped in and set up a large 6-bed garden with a landscape gardener's help. We convinced a horticulture prof at a local community college to use us as a "how to double-dig" field trip, and our beds were ready!

But despite its size and everyone's enthusiasm, we went through 5 gardeners, and wound up struggling to do the tending, and harvesting ourselves. TJ mostly. They tell us it was one of the worst growing seasons that year. Even experienced gardeners were wringing their hands.

Sigh – our lovely first effort went to seed - oxalis to be precise.

Take two - 
Then we met a young guy in a garden group who worked with a small urban farmer in the outskirts of Richmond, and wanted to start one of his own. The idea of using our yard as an urban farmlette intrigued him and he agreed to do it all for both his household and ours.

A local gardening group member "lent us her chickens" to clean the areas of weeds, while "the girls" got their healthy greens. It seems a lovely date. We'd get to hear the lovely burble of happy chickens grazing.  Seems the ladies didn't feel secure enough in the new yard to eat, but it was a try.

Then we gathered some strong arms and they hand turned large long rows and deep beds. We installed a drip watering system and timer. But in his inexperience, he had turned the oxalis in deeply, and then watered it. As the veggies stuck up their meek tiny heads up, the oxalis overwhelmed them and took over. Try as he might, he could find no way to get beyond them. He slipped away in disgrace and left us with a thick lawn of weeds.

We collected cardboard from recycling bins and free chips through Christmas, and after four months, hired  a team to cover the oxalis with 6" of  interlocked cardboard and another 5 or so inches of chips.


Neat chip covered yard again, but empty.

Take three – ( It's important to us, you see.)

We found a new neighbor couple that love to get dirt under their nails, but don't have any dirt where they live a block away. So we are starting a simple, simple garden - a sunny box and a shady box with recycled wood, city compost and seed. Perhaps a worktable and a cold frame too. We provide water, and land, they take the lead as designers and stewards. Our food wishes are similar and we're all excited about it being sweet and small, ... and do-able.

The four of us toured some gardens and saw lovely flowers and herbs. Such color, texture and variety of heights and views... with bits of art throughout the yard. At one place they showed us a terrific water catchment system and we know just where ours could live discretely tucked away.

I'm excited.

Wait, wait. Start simply. It will come, Loni.

We sometimes dream of our own chickens and plan where the coop might be. We see a place for more beds and a future spot to sit in the sun amongst the lovely food and watch it grow.Play some music.

But later, Loni. Later.
Simple will be lovely.

Well the couple backed out last week. Sigh. Not even the start of a simple garden. They were just too concerned they'd get overwhelmed since they both has brand new jobs and didn't know the demands. We understood. Gardens can do that. We know.

Take four - 
Will we find a housemate who loves to get into the soil? Will someone  intertwine what our yard can offer with their love of warm earth and baby sprouts?

But later, Loni. Later.

Showing My Baby Part II

It’s cool! It’s working. 

I’ve created the “place” and ways to have privacy and also happily rub shoulders when they want. TJ keeps standing in front of the chimney and new upper cabinet, saying, “ This is just what it should look like. I keep forgetting it hasn’t always been here.” 

As we show the place to potential housemates,they smile as they walk through the house. Some have actually expressed that they can feel how I’m aware of their needs. (And our own, too actually, but they don’t know see that as much.) Places are “sweet,"  and special to them- like the little laundry room. And the upper deck that they can sit in even when it rains. “Oooh, can I do a veggie garden in pots up here?!” she asks. “Yes, it’s wonderfully sunny and veggies will love it up here.” I reply. 

They’re putting themselves into it.

The laundry room has an ironing board and folding area, and we hung a clothes rack right over the heating vent for "air drying." 

My Choices

Our baby’s on the market.

and not at all surprisingly, all my initial fears that she won’t be good enough have resurfaced. 

My ideas, my reworks. 

Will I succeed in attracting the people who share my attitudes? 

Is it the right story?  

I’ve toured the rooms,  and while my head knows they’re looking at it from their needs, I’m feeling emotional about it.

Do they see us?

I am the Perfect Crash Test Dummy - Part 2

To be as accurate as possible, I realized I needed to include the other side of how I experience sharing life and space with other people.

 I do need my own space, literally and figuratively. But when being around other people is a choice, rather than a requirement, I can enjoy it. I grew up with five brothers and sisters, and sometimes I miss the feeling of a house overflowing with people and activity and conversations. When a musical band I’m in is clicking, it doubles or triples the excitement of performing over playing by myself. When I was a writer and living in Seattle—and they had finally invented laptops—I often would take my computer to a coffee house and write. I enjoy the feeling of having life flowing around me, without having to interact unless I choose.

I can also enjoy what Loni and I call having people “flow through” our space. When I lived in Moenkopi, we had a constant stream of people coming to stay with us at the mission. It was part of our role as a voluntary service unit to host the people from all over the world who were using the “Mennonite Your Way” network to travel across the country cheaply and, in our case, see the Hopi and the Grand Canyon.

Back before the Internet, we never exactly knew who would turn up next, or when. And often as not, they weren’t people with whom I would have chosen to spend time. But there were enough people who were interesting, or who asked in-depth questions about our work in the village or the Hopi, to make having new arrivals be something like opening an unknown present at Christmas. I became good friends with several of our return visitors as we got past surface impressions and got to share and know each others’ lives.

It seems for me it’s a combination of having the right to choose whether to share time/space with people, and who the people are. I know that no one usually has a pure choice about this; I’ve spent lots of time being polite with travelers and others because it would be rude to just leave. But being at home should mean being relaxed and more yourself, so for me to feel ‘at home’ around others means I have some level of choice about sharing.

I don’t yet see how all this can happen in our 1908 Victorian. Having seen Loni’s gift for space planning, and her sensitivity to what people need, I believe that if anyone can figure it out, she will.

But this is my life and our lives and our home, and I’ll have to live with this however it turns out. So sometimes this project does really feel like being a crash test dummy…

A Different Lens

The goal of my house make-over is not a beautiful design. 

Sure, I want to tell the right story somehow and make it attractive. But it’s just so clear that the point of my design work is two-fold: to be as miserly as I can with the dollars I've allotted to the project, and to make sure that the flow and use of the house is really transformed to comfortably hold and respect multiple residents’ individual needs. That brings a different eye to the task of interior architecture. It's space planning pure and simple, one that I dearly love. It’s the human element of dwelling design. 

Yes, I adore choosing palettes and finishes that tell that story.  But in this project, that's icing.

My success happens when the room works for groups of individuals that all want to make a meal, whether they want to eat together or not….

And So It Begins

So here she is: We call her Toadhall, our 1908 Victorian.

I’m excited!

Because the house doesn't flow well for the way we live, I’ve sorta pushed and shoved furniture around to use our rooms differently since we bought her 15 years ago. I've also wanted to try sharing house resources for a long while too. Years ago, I was part of what was called Conserver Society thinking and the times being what they are now has made the idea seem more, well....imperative.

Now, circumstances are making it possible to take the steps right here in my house: First, I’m starting up my own business again as a residential space planner, and second, my life partner TJ, a very private, amazing man, has realized he too wants the feel of other folk moving and using our house, even as he still needs real private space. Even from me. So that’s my space planning challenge. He’ll be my crash test dummy. If I can make him feel okay, and stay excited by this, I’ve succeeded.

And you’ll see his posts here too, to let you know how I’m doing….

Yes, I'm a little scared too. I want this to work! I do believe that we can enjoy our home's spaces in new ways that are beyond nuclear family. I explored Co-Housing and other intentional community collectives when my hubby was alive. But he was 6'9" and felt inhibited by the small units.

But I miss people. I am my most productive in a collaborative design and business environment. And when I'm doing my own internal, creative in work, I love the feeling that just beyond there's a lovely flow of human laughter and energy. And working at home has all but erased both, so I should be thrilled. 

I am.

But honestly, I’ve been in my own home with just family for years and as much as I want it, I admit that I’m also used to having everything in my house my way. I want to feel enriched and expanded, not invaded. So I’m a crash test dummy too.

But what I believe living this way could feel like is so powerful for me, that I just must try. What's most important is that I’ll design the spaces to flow for group as well as solo comforts and privacy, not just squeeze a group into it. Intend it.

See what you think. Welcome along for the ride!