Please don’t tell the dollhouse, but I’ve been looking at other homes. Over the last few weeks, perhaps as some sort of “new year, great attitude” schtick, (which you might scoff at if you read some of my angst in last week’s posts) I’ve been letting the universe know exactly what I would like out of life. Call it prayer, call it positive thinking, call it the loss of the last few frayed stitches holding my brain together, but I’m choosing to let the powers that be into the loop about what I see in my thoughts about my ideal life. If I keep all the details to myself, I don’t see how the pieces will fall into place. After all, a person doesn’t sit down in a restaurant, keep her mouth shut, and expect that the right meal will magically land on her placemat.
To clarify, I’ve just about dug myself out of the crater that formed in my finances when my previous tenant stopped paying rent. I am not a woman of means. There are 334 dollars in my bank account at this moment, and 72 hours until payday. I consider this a victory, really, since November and December found me eating the cheapest things I could find, like the burned white stuff I forgot about at the bottom of the deep freeze, and trying desperately to minimize my use of overdraft and my credit card. To have a paycheque in sight and be still in the black feels like a minor miracle right now. Still, I am breaking even and I am certainly not in a position to upgrade my house any time soon.
Dollhouse, if you’re reading this, I love you. It’s not personal. I just dream about a bigger kitchen and a bathroom I don’t have to mop with a Q-tip. I promise we’ll be together for quite some time.
In my happiest dreams, I see myself writing and/or editing full time and able to afford a little bigger place out of town. Picture this, a cute, moderately-sized home on a few (like two or three) acres in the country, not too far from an urban centre. I’ve been cruising some websites for contenders for house plans. Click here to see one of my favourites. It’s pretty large, but I suppose I may as well think of the best case scenario and be grateful for whatever comes my way.
While the specifics are fairly flexible, there are certain must-haves in mind for my “someday” home. My dream house has an open floor plan and a fabulous kitchen with a pantry. I won’t have a formal living room and a family room on the same floor, since that just feels like wasted space to me, and I won’t have a formal dining room plus a “kitchen” table for the same reason. Dormer windows make my soul glow, so they are a huge requirement. The Electrician knows this, since I flap like a budgie and chirp, “Dormer windows! Dormer windows!” when we pass a house so equipped in our travels. I would really like an ensuite bathroom with a toilet in its own separate closet. Poop is not romantic and should be enclosed. I want big windows in as many places as possible to let in the gorgeous Alberta sunshine.
If my “someday” budget allows, I’d really like a bonus room over the garage with fabulous natural light to set up as my writing and painting studio. I picture a beautiful desk and built-in shelves for my books and art supplies, and a big squishy chair with a footstool where I can hang out with my laptop. I’d have my easel set up by a window and a deep laundry room sink for washing up brushes and stuff.
The whole interior of the place would be painted in bright colours, which is the only kind of house I can picture myself owning. The dollhouse is done up in tropical tones with white trim, and it makes my heart happy. Life is too damn short for beige. As much as I love the look of hardwood floors, I’ll invest in a high-end laminate throughout for durability reasons. Dog people are nodding their heads with me on this one; the large dog people are nodding most vigorously of all.
Who knows if all this could happen. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to dream beautiful dreams and hope for the best. After all, I wanted a spotted dog, and we all know how that turned out. I needed a man who thinks I’m the bee’s knees and always treats me with respect, and he finally showed up a couple years ago, even better than I anticipated in many, many ways.
Maybe I’ll get that fabulous studio yet. Stranger things have happened to people far less strange than me.
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