After countless hours of poring over house plans, Dave and I have finally found the one that captivates us. Its defining feature is the tall vaulted ceiling in the family room, with fans and rustic wooden beams. It gives the impression of a cozy cabin tucked away in the forest.
However, there’s one aspect that leaves me apprehensive—the laundry room is situated at the farthest end of our bedroom. Although there is an intriguing option to install a space-age laundry vacuum, but as we learned the hard way with our vacuum tube blockage yesterday, it might transform into a daunting denim or bedsheet obstruction. Moreover, I can’t help but wonder about the electricity bill when running a vacuum inside your walls all day!
As we transition from the unknown into the known, the next step is making modifications, a task that may require an architect to fine-tune the specifics. There are adjustments like swapping the positions of the master closet and bathroom; I’m not too keen on walking through the bathroom to access the closet. Also, widening the entryway to be more than just a mere walkway. And, regarding the three bedrooms, I’m pondering the idea of installing French doors or one of those nifty sliding window doors on tracks to make access to the porch more practical. My mind has been busy gallivanting around the potential space, a process I wasn’t able to indulge in until today, which has been fun.
Shifting gears, I find myself caught up in overthinking a recent session I had. The part that sent me off-kilter was thinking the other person’s actions were intentionally meant to throw me off balance. Regardless of the truth, my response set us on a circular path of conversation. I thought I had a handle on the situation, but it turns out, I didn’t. If only you could peer into my thoughts, you’d witness the chaos—like a steaming kettle whistling, accompanied by shouts of “fire” directed at a tiny mouse. It’s nothing short of bewildering nonsense.
In retrospect, I think I failed in the active listening department. My lack of attentiveness caused me to overlook the subtle insecurities of the other individual. Had I detected these cues, I could have addressed them proactively. Instead, I found myself grappling with my own insecurities, and the situation grew increasingly awkward. This discomfort created a whirlpool of confusion that we both got sucked into.
Today is the first day of having Emily clean our Airbnb property. However, she inadvertently lost our key during her visit, and to make matters worse, there are no spare keys on the premises, with a guest scheduled to arrive on Friday morning. This leaves us with just one day to resolve the issue. Fearing that Dave or I would have to make the costly five-hour drive and contend with skyrocketing gas prices (who knew it could reach $5.00 a gallon?!), I reached out to the incoming guest to explain our predicament. They were incredibly understanding and chose to alter their travel route to accommodate us, opting for I-5 instead of the coastal route. This gesture of flexibility left me pondering a suitable thank-you gift.
The answer came to me—a couple of houseplants. I’ll need to find new homes for them anyway.
Just kidding, they aren’t for sale yet! I may need to consider grief counseling for the inevitable parting sooner rather than later.
That’s a wrap for today. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Until then, take care. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 