Okay, so I...

so I wrote a Friday Five which was absolutely nothing but me whining about the things I would change about our house. But here is the thing - I love our house. Yeah, I wish it was in, I don't know, Fells Point or Red Hook or London or someplace fascinating. Yeah, I'd rather have a different kitchen floor. And a living room ceiling without a hole. And a yard where grass will grow. and and and and

honestly, who cares.

We are very happy here. We could use a maid, and a landscaper, and a professional organizer (incidentally, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY PROFESSIONAL ORGANIZERS MAKE? A lot. The answer to that question is "a lot.")

I had to stop watching HGTV because pretty much the only show I ever saw was "Why Your House Sucks So Bad" And "Why Your House Sucks So Bad II" and "OMG, No One Would Ever Even Consider Buying Your Completely Suckass House." Some real estate professional would sniff, "well, these countertops could obviously use some updating," and I'd think, I bet our countertops need updating. It was not relaxing, I finally realized. I wasn't getting new ideas for things I could do myself. I was just feeling inadequate. This is why HGTV makes money. I would invest in it. I just can't watch it.

Our counters don't need updating. They look fine, and they stand up to massive abuse every time I cook. The problems aren't the house's problems, they're ours - we have stuff we don't need, we aren't disciplined enough to get rid of stuff or decide where it should go. We changed businesses, we had a baby, we have a lot of junk. None of this is the house's fault, and nothing would make it better. Not even more room, because we'd just fill that! Not even some excellent storage like custom-built shelving - until we figure out what we need to keep, and what we need to dispense with, that would just give us more leeway to be undisciplined.

The point is: we are happy in our house. My kitchen is extremely modest. Small. Cheapo appliances (the fridges were free, in fact.) Imperfectly planned. But every time I walk into the kitchen itself, I think about some fun time I've had there, some culinary triumph - making that massive carmel cake, for example, or feeding our family 3 dinners with a dollar's worth of dried beans. Or this Christmas, improvising side by side with my brother, laughing our heads off and having everything come out insanely good! (and also: all hot at the same time.)

So Santa can bring all new floors and a French door to replace the clouded slider. And someone to fix the ceiling. I will never get around to it. (The getting-rid-of-stuff and organizing - that I am nibbling away at. It's frustrating, but I remind myself that it didn't get this way in a weekend, and it won't get fixed in a weekend either.) I'd rather be cooking. Or reading. Or writing. Or playing dinosaurs.