Some days, I want to start from scratch and build a brand-new house, one where every room is drywalled perfectly, shower surrounds are installed correctly, there are plenty of electrical outlets (all properly grounded and in convenient locations), a home where fake wood paneling will never enter and carpet will always be high quality. There will be no ceiling tiles, and no one will ever dream of wallpapering a ceiling and painting over it instead of finishing it correctly. The front door won’t open into a tiny kitchen, with no room to stow jackets or dirty shoes. Cabinets, closets, pantries and shelves will be custom-designed and quality work. And I’ll have a living room and dining room that invite people to stay and relax. Oh, and the master bedroom with have a private bath. Isn’t that a novel idea……
At this point in my life, however, I’m resigned to never owning my dream house. Actually, that first paragraph doesn’t necessarily describe the house I’ve always dreamed of. My dream home was full of babies and toddlers who would someday grow up and bring their own children back to visit. I wanted to mark my children’s heights on some sacred doorframe (which could never be painted over) and build secret cubbyholes in their bedroom floors where they could hide their treasures – only after they discovered the spot. My dream home always had 3 bedrooms and a guest room – until the kids grew up and got married. Then we’d finish the basement so they could all bring their spouses home and everyone could have their own space. I always wanted to settle into a home and spend the rest of my life there.
Instead, here we are in this building which has been a temporary, make-do kind of residence for as long as it has existed. We may live here 2 more years; it may be 10 or 20. Who knows where we’ll be after this?
Still, I’m not complaining. Our home is just one of the side-effects of having a job that we really, really love. We won’t trade it – just try to improve it (if we ever get the time!)