I’m having a hard time sitting down to write anything, and that’s because half of my house is way too organized right now, and the other half is like… I’m probably never going to because to find a measuring cup or plastic baggie ever again. Also, hairbrush? Dead loss.
I may have accidentally left it here…
The rules of life as I know them are, 1.) no matter what, you cannot complain about having been to the beach in February when you live in Michigan, but 2.) you can make this face every time someone tries to brush your hair between the ages of one and ninety-nine…
Because, shit. It also explains why I only own one hairbrush and haven’t been looking for it too hard since it went MIA in Jamaica, and also why my grandmother is a saint.
Yes. I made that face every time my hair got brushed for the first ten years of my life. Also, hey! Guess who just got back from the beach where they may or may not have left their one-and-only hairbrush!
Yeah. The girl I’ve know the longest in the world– one of my very best friends– got married in Jamaica last week with 50 of our closest friends and family because when it comes to being on the beach in February, we do not fuck around…
I could not love this girl or her new husband more. (It won’t surprise you that I used to drag her out into the cornfields with me and make me play “army” when we were kids, but she’s retaliated in our adult years by making me get all dressed up and presentable and go to, like, martini bars… where they don’t serve beer.)
It also won’t surprise you that even though everyone else was staying for a full week, I made my reservations for 4 days, and then tried to change my flight to leave a day early because holy shit I can only spend so many days sitting on my ass on the beach before I need to be home and doing shit.
So, I’m just going to acknowledge how lucky I am to be able to spend a few days in paradise with my bestie when she gets married. And I’m also going to acknowledge that I’ve done an amazing job building a life that suits me so well that I don’t want to leave it. I think it’s okay to say that. I love my life… I like the work, I like the demands, I like the routine, I very much love who I am and what I’m able to do because of the work and demands and routine. I have a really hard time stepping away from that for “time off.”
I do it when it matters, and because it’s good for me, and then I dive gleefully back in to my regular life where sometimes I spend six hours of my day in meetings, and two hours driving home in a damned blizzard, and hauling water through a foot of snow in the morning, because look at that face…
It is so, so good to be home.
Even though, as I may have mentioned, it’s going to be impossible to find a measuring cup, or a plastic baggie, or any other kind of kitchen utensil for the next six months eternity because… that’s right…
The entire kitchen has been packed up an moved into the entry way. I’m thisclose to legitimately starting the kitchen renovation.
(Old pic, obv. That floor is totally gone now, and my mom removed about a thousand staples from the subfloor while staying here when I was out of town.)
It’s weird (and a little painful) to pack up a kitchen you’ve been fully living in for a few years (especially after living without a legit kitchen for a few years before that.) I also know that this is going to be such an amazing room when it’s done, so here’s what’s next for me:
- Buy a new hairbrush. (Maybe.)
- Set up the temporary kitchen in the laundry room… it just needs a microwave and a cabinet for the new sink to make it fully functional.
- Replace and reconfigure the cabinets in the kitchen.
- Prep everything for paint.
- Actually paint.
- Install plywood counters and temp plumbing to get everything functional again.
Six easy steps, guys. No problem. I’m so glad I took the time to organize the laundry room and the treasure room before leaving… it’s odd to have those typically “non-fucntional” rooms totally organized, while the kitchen– where I actively need to do things to live every day– is a total disaster, but I’m learning to live with it.
I’m giving myself between now and the first weekend in May to tear this room apart and put it back together in a somewhat working fashion before it’s time to start on outdoor projects again… wish me luck.
Article reference Unpacking & Repacking
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