Too impatient to wait for gardens to bloom
Too impatient to wait for new books by favorite authors to come out
Too impatient for Spring to arrive - and then too impatient for Summer to come and finally too impatient for Christmas to be here - which brings me back to being too impatient for Spring to arrive - a vicious circle and a true example of how now to live. Talk about destroying " living in the moment ".
Too impatient to wait for paint to dry
Too impatient to wait until funds are replenished to finish renovations.
It's an awful way to be - and I wish more than anything that that particular trait of mine were NOT a particular trait of mine.
It's a trait that falls under the category of " negative " and while I am usually an upbeat type of person I just can't shake it.
A glass is ALWAYS half empty in my world and I'm constantly dashing around trying to fill it up to the brim.
So this morning when I went into ( what I'll very loosely call the " mud room " ) I nearly wept.
It seems like I never stop - and yet every time I turn around there's another monumental task that
will zap all my energy and money ( of which we are close to being paupers with this whole renovation business )
I panic - and this is a sample of what goes through my mind because I truly intend for this house to be party central this summer - with the pool and all - you have to read the next bit very very quickly to see how my mind works
people will have to come through this s*it hole to get to it - and what will they think - and OMG I HAVE to do something with it - it's just unacceptable - I'll die of embarrassment - and maybe they can come through the front garden and through the gate to get to the back - but oh oh - they'll have to use the bathroom at some point so there's no escaping it - everyone's going to see it - but there's still so much to do INSIDE the house - and how can I justify doing this little section when we're drowning in a million other sections.................
All that was crowding my brain in a matter of seconds.
I literally sat down on the chair below and put my head in my hands..................( feel sorry for me yet? )
and then I looked up and saw this - I mean I really saw it - and perhaps because of the stark contradiction
I was almost taken aback...........I'm in and out of this back room many many times a day - is it really possible that I never took the time to actually see how far we've come?
I've been so busy filling glasses I haven't taken the time to be thankful for what we've accomplished
Not at all.
John says - WHY are you sitting there taking pictures of the kitchen?
Suzan says - Looking at my glass from a different angle
John says - What glass?
Suzan says - The one that's always half empty
John says - You're the most nonsensical person I know
John says - It's like living with the bloody Riddler
I'm more impressed than I can tell you that he even knows who the Riddler is...................
But I'm too busy looking at my half full glass to pay him any mind really
At least that's the way it looks to me while looking in from the mudroom
Trust me when I tell you it looks seriously half empty from every other view in this house :)
But dare I say the worst may just be over? ( ok - there's a bathroom that's just as bad - but it's a bathroom not an entire kitchen )
Think I'll hang out in the mud room more often - bring a book out there - with a half filled glass of wine instead of whine- and look up every now and then...................
Have a wonderful Monday all !
Come join me at these parties !!!
Between naps on the porch Coastal Charm My Uncommon Slice of Suburbia
Not Just a Housewife Homework The DIY Dreamer
Savvy Southern Style The Dedicated House From My Front Porch to Yours
Bloom Design Common Ground The Charm of Home
French Country Cottage Shabby Art Boutique My Turn for Us
My Romantic Home The Shabby Nest Funky Junk Interiors
One More Time Events Life on Lakeshore Drive Stone Gable
It's Overflowing My 1929 Charmer Redhead can Decorate
That's what Che said Under the table & dreaming
A Stroll Through Life Kathe with an E Home Stories A to Z