Wednesday, July 20, 2016

     This is my dining room. This is my pride and joy lying on her side wrapped in a blanket. This is my life for the next two weeks. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to practice her this way. I’ve laid down next to her and tried to squeeze my hands under the blanket, but that was futile. I am resigned to practicing on her little brother in the guest room (hopefully, sans guests). 

     I know what you’re thinking. Why on earth did you decide to rip up the carpet and tile the floors AFTER you moved in? Bonne Question. Well, it had something to do with the gazillion dollars it would have cost to store the furniture in a climate-controlled warehouse, pay the movers an extra year’s salary to hang out at the beach while waiting and then hand over our first born to the hotel so we could afford to stay there for two weeks eating cardboard breakfast while the job was being done. 

      So, for the next two weeks while dust and grout fly all over our newly-painted walls, we will just hang out in the laundry room. Yup. We have a nice space of about 6’ x 4’ where we can line up for naps, eat our cereal out of the Tide box and watch TV on our phones. Can’t wait.

      “Begin with the end in mind.” I made the mistake of quoting this to a former colleague last week. Who am I trying to kid? Did I mean the “end” of me? Probably. No, really, it will be beautiful once the tile is down and “cured.” I may be sick, but I will have the healthiest tile in the hood.

     One thing I’m learning is that if you intentionally put yourself in miserable situations, you really appreciate what you have once the hour has passed. 

     BTW, the new bedding looks gorgeous on our big bed. It’s all poofy and pretty. Only issue is where to take the afternoon nap. I have decided to try the floor (forgetting there is a concrete slab under it). It wasn’t too bad for the first few days, but I’m beginning to realize that the surface is a far cry from the dough we sleep on. (Mr. W. must sleep on dough topper due to bad back). “Damn the dough! Dough trumps concrete!” I was heard to moan at 4:11 p.m. from the bowels of the bedroom.


     What experience have you had recently within your own walls that made you appreciate what you have? If you can’t think of anything, you really owe it to yourself to confine yourself to the pantry or something so you feel so free when you exit. What do you mean, “You have too much time on your hands?”