Later on in the week, random distractions popped up and suddenly, my new, productive persona was gone. Dishes in the sink, junk on the table, and not a thing to show for it all. To top it off, everyone I knew was starting to ask how the house was going, what changes I had made so far, could I send pictures . . .
Whoa. Okay, hold on a sec.
I started to wonder how far behind I actually was on the house. I mean, how long is too long to leave unpacked boxes in the spare bedroom? Or go without installing the toilet paper holder onto the bathroom wall? Or, wait--am I supposed to have all of my paint colors picked out? Or . . . one paint color?
I am not a pro at decorating . . . I'm not even good at hanging my clothes after doing a load of laundry. But I am starting to see that my delay in creating the "perfect" (or semi-functional) home is made okay by a few things.
I love how the afternoon sun streams into my kitchen windows, turning everything golden.
I love walking barefoot on soft carpet.
I love sitting on the front porch during thunderstorms and watching the rain pour down.
I love how my husband put on his work clothes earlier this evening and announced that he was going outside to mow the lawn.
I love our house.
I love our home.
Forget perfect. Somehow, this is better.