There’s No Place Like Home. Where’s My Ruby Slippers?
WEEK 17: It’s true what they say: There’s no place like home. And much like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, our children are yearning to return home. Too bad they don’t have any snazzy red shoes to click together three times and make that happen. (Although we do have three boys, so donning red high heels is not exactly the look we’re going for anyway.)
They miss their toys, they miss their rooms, they miss having any outdoor room.
Moving into our apartment over the summer felt a bit like a holiday: new surroundings, relaxed rules, and a go-with-the-flow attitude. But now summer’s a mere memory and school and rules are back in session. Initially set to return the end of September, the calendar rolled on into October today, with a pretty healthy punch-list on our house still to cover.
THE THRILL IS GONE
It’s not really a disdain for apartment life, for there are many aspects about it that I’m really enjoying: easy to keep clean, lot’s of together time, no worries about lawn care. It’s more of the constant hum of energy surrounding such a big project. I can’t remember the last time I spent a whole day without having a major discussion about my house.
It’s been a consuming occupation for years (floods, flood recoveries, to lift or not to lift, a year with the architect – and now this). I harbor a fantasy that once this project is complete, I’ll be able to go a whole week just living in my house – not dissecting every nuance. Ah, what that must be like …
FURTHER ON UP THE ROAD
We’ll view this project in our rearview mirror one day and be relieved to be on the other side of the mountain. Another fantasy? To be in my elevated house when the skies open up and unleash a waterfall and my first reaction is to reach for the champagne NOT start moving things out of the way. Indeed.
I can almost hear the toast we’ll make, raising our glasses as the water creeps higher, “It’s a fine day and there’s no place like home.”