Highlight and delete. Every day is the same. The blog from yesterday is gone, and today another one percolates in my mind. Like the upright stainless steel one I had my morning cup of coffee from.
I’m feeling insecure about the future. Part of me feels like the man with autism on the episode of “Love on a Spectrum” I watched last night, and how discombobulated he became when considering whether or not to go on another date with a woman he worked with at Kroger.
In an act of “because we can,” we’re not vacuuming, mopping, or situating the cabin like we used to need to do for Airbnb guests. That level of cleaning was necessary for meeting my Superhost goal, and now that I thrust the flag into that mountaintop, I can rest easy. It’ll still be clean for future us, just not THAT clean.
It’s hard seeing the Zestimate of $221,000 for this place and anticipating a sale hundreds of thousands of dollars less than the meaning and value this cabin has brought to us. Not to be sappy, but it feels like attending the funeral of one of the most life-transforming people you know and only a handful of people are in attendance. Why in the heck is the church not filled past capacity?
It is what it is. Reality’s sharp edge strikes again; we either boldly accept it or allow it to stab us in the back.
Will you come and clean my house for me? It’d be a fairly simple job; a couple inside-out socks, clean laundry to put away, and take stuff that I point at out of the house. I bought a pair of boots that I couldn’t wiggle my foot in for the life of me, I felt like Cinderella’s step-sisters Drizella and Anastasia when trying to get it in there. I’d need you to drop them off at UPS.
How much would one of those people cost, the one you point at things to? Actually, I know! Back when I had a bunch of super heavy metal shop devices and tables at my previous house’s basement, Dave and I hired 1-800-GOT-JUNK. It was amazingly awesome to point at all that heavy lifting I didn’t want, and really couldn’t do. At that time the basement was unfinished, think broken-up concrete floor, dark and cobwebs, and the path to it was steep, over a muddy bank with no stairs. Those two guys deserved more than the major thank yous and $800 price tag.
Come to think of it, I kind of did this earlier today with my friend Lindsay. Having not decided what to give away and what to keep for next year’s Christmas decor, I held up items one by one and gauged her facial expressions to make the choice. Her face disapproved of almost everything. which brings up a whole other question entirely; do I have bad taste?
Whelp, looks like we’re out of time. In tomorrow’s episode, we explore my horrible aesthetic sense and why I have it.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 