Thankful for my home

Most exceptionally awesome imaginary gesture...

Last week I was struck with a mighty bug. The kind of bug that most certainly graduated at the top of it's class. It appeared to be gifted in the art of misery. As often as I try to push myself through anything because I am known throughout the masses as a stubborn and resilient gal- it just wasn't happening. One good part of this temporary state of quarantine- rest. I was able to sleep, watch Netflix in excess, and to boot- I had a break from parenting. Thank goodness. The only major problem was telepathically willing the kitchen to my bedroom for a cold beverage that didn't even exist. A friend of mine offered to hop a flight from PDX to get me an ice cold gatorade, but I declined. That would be a bit much. The offer was certainly appreciated, and goes down in the books as one of the most exceptionally awesome imaginary gestures I have ever received. After the two days of delirium and desperate scrounging for nourishment in the most pathetic of attempts at self-care (I lived off of honey toast and diet coke), I ventured out of my house to take care of some errands, feeling a bit off. You know the feeling, where your brain cells just aren't firing properly. I call it the "stupids." It is similar to the feeling you have the day after your 21st birthday. We have all had it. Driving home from my errands, I noticed that autumn puked all over my property. Now, you know that I adore this time of year, but my least fabulous part is the work that comes with it. Metaphorically dragging my half dead feet- I vowed to tackle the mess this weekend after some energy was mustered. So I slept for ten hours.

My most favorite thing about my home- this tree!

My most favorite thing about my home- this tree!

Completely useless working gloves...apparently.

Post coma, I geared myself with Pandora on my phone strapped to my arm (because I'm pseudo-athletic when shopping on Amazon) listening to the Tori Amos station, toting clippers, a garbage can, and some completely useless working gloves that don't protect from thorns...apparently. I became grumbly. I literally put off yard work as long as possible. Some people thrive on it. I have a neighbor across the street that changes her flower beds with the seasons. Who does that? It looks gorgeous, but my sense of inadequacy twitches whenever I see her latest addition. I am not like that neighbor. I would rather be writing, cooking, or even cleaning the bathroom before yard work. Then- I caught myself mid-grumble and thought about how thankful I am to have a home to care for. I honestly never ever thought I would be able to buy a home when I was younger. There was one year waiting tables in which my total income on my taxes was literally $12,000. Fancy things like home ownership seemed like an impossible dream that was for other people, not me. Heck, I would have settled for a dishwasher and in-home laundry facilities! 

70's airport couch...

Let me tell you about my first apartment in 1995. It was part of big big old blue house in the historic part of downtown Boise. Split into three apartments, I had the main floor. Woo hoo! The location was super hip, and I rode my cruiser to the coffee shop I worked at just a few blocks away. When moving in, I just had my old bedroom furniture, and my parents old 70's kitchen table/chairs. A friend donated a bright orange 70's airport couch to my living room, and I had an old TV with bunny ears and a VCR- but I only had one tape. Forrest Gump. I can quote every second of that movie. Shrimp, run Forrest run, box of chocolates- there you go. The major problem with this place was that every time you flushed the toilet, raw sewage would gurgle up into the bathtub from the septic system. There was a root problem with the huge ancient trees around the house and suffice (it) to say, I had the plumber on speed dial. I still remember his name, Shane. There was also an infestation of red ants that were hearty enough to create their own zip code. You see, these are what I call humble beginnings. 

Ridiculously enormous zucchinis...

I do this thing. Every morning when I wake up to let the dog out, I walk into my living room and take a deep breath. I look around my dimly lit space filled with bright colors, throw pillows and framed photos of my daughter growing up all of these years and I ooze absolute gratitude. I have a space that's mine. I can paint the walls, listen to music as loud as I care to- at any time day or night. I look in my backyard- at my garden that grows ridiculously enormous zucchinis, the picnic table my dad and brother built just for me, and the outdoor fireplace that toasts marshmallows every fall. This day, as I labored over my yard while recovering from the plague, I looked at this small piece of the earth I can call mine, and I was thankful. This home provides me shelter and comfort from the world. It's a sacred space that I seek when I feel unrest. "I want to go home." What a special place. No home was truly mine until this one. Yes, I would love new floors and different kitchen cabinets, but you know what? I can do laundry in my home. I have a dishwasher. I have a shed and garage. WOW! This world focuses so much on more more more. Why can't we pause to feel satisfaction with what we have already been given? How can "more" make us happy if we don't appreciate what we already have? I am thankful for my home. What are you thankful for? Happy Gratitude Tuesday.