Some days after school and on weekends, I spent time at my parents' large store that sold outdoor furniture and decorative/entertaining items, where I helped with visual merchandising to appeal to customers plus organized the small and medium products/boxes stacked and shelved in inventory areas. Then, in my late teens to early 20s, I added color and personality to my university dorm rooms so that they were not generic and cold... the spaces needed to be "home away from home" for me to study and function at my best. (My roommates seemed to appreciate the enhancements, too, although one gal would have loved if I also provided Maid Service to clean her ongoing messes!)

Shortly after college, the first home of my own was a studio apartment of just 400 square feet with only one window (looking onto a brick wall) and an encased Murphy bed that folded away each morning when I woke. I painted the walls cheerful colors, added bright lighting, surrounded myself with objects and memories I loved... and was very happy while living there—my beloved Home Base—for several years. I remember describing it as my "10-room studio" because of all the functional areas I set up there. And it was a real sanctuary that provided relief from the hustle and bustle of New York City, which sometimes chewed me up and spit me out. That period