I’ve just finished putting on my ‘jammas. I had the pants on, now I wear the “outdoor divas” shirt that doubles as a sleep shirt. It’s hot in our home and it smells like garlic from the homemade pasta sauce bub prepared.
He’s watching a western in the other room even though he said he’d turn off the tv after House. I made brownies last night–and even added the called for pecans to the mix. They turned out wonderful but I like them when they’re not quite finished baking. These turned out to be baked as the recipe called for.
I’m so tired and haven’t been to sleep before 11 any night yet. I know this is early for some–and used to be for me–and then I learned that if you’re not kind to yourself about your bedtime, the day which follows can bite you in the ass.
We met with an accountant–not my sister–to discuss the pros and cons of saving our condo and consuming the monthly rent that would come or sell it to use the profit to pay for our new house. We’re feeling more knowledgable about the options, but not yet final with our decision.
There are things about our 1-bed that I like. I love hardwood floors–the shine, the laquer, the cleanliness. We have carpet. Newer, soft, fluffy. I grew up with both in my house and learned to appreciate the way carpet feels on barefeet and socked feet. I still like it better than wood floors.
We’re on the top–fifth–floor and nothing compares to coming home to see the vivid wine walls against deep plush blue sofas. It screams comfort and cozy.
We have our little leak, our annoying faucet, our scabby shower paint that is starting to curl in one pesky spot, but it’s home. It’s where we live.