If you’re looking for a recipe for a stressful year, I have it for you:
- Move across the country to a place where you know no one.
- Be unemployed for at least 3 months.
- Start a new job.
- Buy your first house.
- Renovate half of that new house.
- Plan a trip to the other side of the world.
When we bought our new home in May, I really didn’t stop and think, “Huh, this might not be the best year to undertake a renovation. It’s been a pretty intense year already.”
My entire life is a construction zone.
Not only have Brad and I been working overtime to finish renovating our guest house/apartment so we can get it rented out, but even my office has undergone an overhaul. Thankfully, I’m not expected to help with the construction in my office building, but there seems to be a thin layer of dust covering almost every aspect of my life. If not dust, then paint. This morning I found white paint on my legs. I haven’t painted with white for about a week now, and I promise I’ve showered since then.
My first impulse is to apologize to you, dear reader, for not writing earlier.
But then I remind myself that I’m attempting to apologize less.
I’m writing this while standing at the countertop in our new kitchen (you never know where inspiration will strike – mine struck while unloading the dishwasher). Betsy is sniffing around, exploring every cabinet that I open, and often finding herself in sticky situations (she somehow got behind an open drawer, and I wasn’t really sure if she’d be able to get out).
Life is EXHAUSTING, y’all.
Don’t you feel that there are just periods of life where you stop and think, “I’m not sure I can handle much more.”
Brad and I spent last weekend in Sun Valley, ID, to celebrate our first anniversary.
It was great to getaway and enjoy the beautiful views of the ski resort town. This past year has been busy. It’s been a year of beginnings. Moving across the country, starting a new job, being unemployed, making new friends… and buying a house.
That’s right. A HOUSE. We bought a house. So I guess we’re staying here.
Which means I have to pack. Again.