Is what I had to do when I read Meg’s comment. Ah yes, she lives across the country and we have only chatted online (although we were VERY close to meeting in person once) but she hit the nail on the head. Moving is not going to make my kids clean their rooms. It’s not going to make me remember to get dog food when I am at the store. It is not going to make me a happier person. Well maybe for a little while :). <\/p>\n
I think I have mentioned that I really love my house, and I have great neighbors. My kids walk to school, I can walk to our little downtown and the library. <\/p>\n
The truth is that I love to remodel and dream about house stuff. But I get sad when I think about leaving this house.<\/p>\n
Tonight I was cooking dinner. Eva had just fallen asleep (amazing since the dogs and kids were being very loud). Someone knocks on the door- I have garlic, zucchini, and tomatoes that I am heating up on the stove for pasta. I look out the window and don’t recognize the volvo station wagon. The dogs are barking, I am afraid Eva will wake up- she is sleeping in a bouncy seat in the kitchen. If she wakes up, there goes dinner. I am annoyed.<\/p>\n
I answer the door. It is a woman passing out info about a meeting concerning the mowing of the grass down by the river. She hands me the flyer and turns to leave. She stops, turns around and says, “I just want you to know that you did a wonderful job with your remodel. This house, I just love to look at it when I drive by. It is one of the best in the neighborhood.” I stand there, hands full of oranges, a bowl, her flyer… silent. I’m thinking, “did my husband pay you to say that?” She turns to leave, turns around again and says, “it’s so Pottery Barn looking”.
\n“Thanks” I mutter. Thinking about the irony of the whole thing.<\/p>\n
And I decide to be thankful. That I have this house, and the love that is inside.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Is what I had to do when I read Meg’s comment. Ah yes, she lives across the country and we have only chatted online (although we were VERY close to meeting in person once) but she hit the nail on the head. Moving is not going to make my kids clean their rooms. It’s not going to make me remember to get dog food when I am at the store. It is not going to make me a happier person. Well maybe for a little while :). I think I have mentioned that I really love my house, and I have great neighbors. My kids walk to school, I can walk to our little downtown and the library. The truth is that I love to remodel and dream about house stuff. But I get sad when I think about leaving this house. Tonight I was cooking dinner. Eva had just fallen asleep (amazing since the dogs and kids were being very loud). Someone knocks on the door- I have garlic, zucchini, and tomatoes that I am heating up on the stove for pasta. I look out the window and don’t recognize the volvo station wagon. The dogs are barking, I am afraid Eva will wake up- she is sleeping in a bouncy seat in the kitchen. If she wakes up, there goes dinner. I am annoyed. I answer the door. It is a woman passing out info about a meeting concerning the mowing of the grass down by the river. She hands me the flyer and turns to leave. She stops, turns around and says, “I just want you to know that you did a wonderful job with your remodel. This house, I just love to look at it when I drive by. It is one of the best in the neighborhood.” I stand there, hands full of oranges, a bowl, her flyer… silent. I’m thinking, “did my husband pay you to say that?” She turns to leave, turns around again and says, “it’s so Pottery Barn looking”. “Thanks” I mutter. Thinking about the irony of the whole thing. And I decide to be thankful. That I have this house, and the love that is inside.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[569],"class_list":["post-1647","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life","tag-reality-check"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1647","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1647"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1647\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1647"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1647"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.elisalou.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1647"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}