Coming Home

When I travel, I always dream about finding a place to buy there. Especially if we are on the waterfront. To be able to push our canoe into the water for an early morning paddle. Swimming anytime. <sigh>

In fact, as the small town that we currently resides turns more frantic, more ‘consume, consume, consume’, we find ourselves seriously considering the idea of selling our house and using the equity to buy and live in a truck and camper for a year as we putter across this great big country, searching for a new laid back town that has the Earth in its heart. But, I am getting ahead of myself. This blog entry is about our house. And how much I love our house.

So, I seem to love where I am staying, and then I come home. And I find that I DO love where we live. (I mean, nowhere is perfect, but this is pretty darn close.) I love our house. I love its smell. I love the fact that everything is ours and works the way we want it to. It is our own little sanctuary and it is home. And I never really realized how much I love our new house. Doors open and close. There is lots of light. There is a shower. I find myself at 31, spoiled. I don’t want to go back to doors and windows that don’t open and close properly. It’s strange but that seems to be a big thing in my world. I am already tired of doors and windows and cabinets that don’t work properly. I wonder why? I am generally pretty good at roughing it. I mean, at the cottage, I only had an actual soap down three or so times in ten days. (Swimming everyday helps.) Mouse droppings everywhere and spiders crawling around doesn’t faze me.

So, am I confused about where I want to live? Yes. Have I felt like I am at a cross-roads my whole life? Yes. Right now, I think we need to live here another year, maybe two before we adventure away. The timing isn’t right to move. And that is all I know.

Side thought: Vanilla Oreos dipped in green tea sounds weird, but totally rocks.

What I am a sucker for: Ice cream on sale.