Every now and then I have thoughts about decorating my condo, baking a pie from scratch, maybe organize the plethora of photo albums. After my nap, I tell myself. Then I go to the gym, the dog park, Whole Foods and maybe online shop. Actually these days it’s more like putting things into my online shopping cart and falling asleep before checking out. Why can’t I get into the home stuff? I know it’s in me somewhere…I think. It’s almost like someone you haven’t seen in so long you start to forget what they look like.
Post college, I moved in with my boyfriend at the time who was in law school. Being a journalism major and living in Cleveland, I didn’t have the easiest time finding a job. Actually for nearly a year I didn’t have a job. I volunteered at the hospital a few days a week and sat around the apartment cooking and having my own HGTV parties. You know the kind where you watch how to make a headboard or how to turn that plain IKEA dresser into something cool. I was like a Martha Stewart without the grace. Anyhow, I didn’t find that lifestyle particularly fitting for me. I wanted to work and feel like I had a greater purpose. Grass is always greener right? Well, in this case it actually was greener. I love working and I can’t imagine not. Even on those days I feel beatdown by the 3:30 a.m. alarm, get shitty comments on my Facebook wall, then leave work feeling untalented and lost, I still recognize that this is the path for me. Perspective gave me that. Back to my domestication handicap though. I blame Instagram for my low domestic-esteem. That’s a word I just made up for feeling bad about my lack of interior design and cooking abilities. I sift through photos of stunning apartments-even ones done on the cheap. I really hope I am bad at this because I don’t have the time to care, not because I am just plain bad. I’d love a new bed, but do you know how many training sessions and dinners I can get out of that money? Lots is the answer. Maybe by 30 I will get around to making my house a home…maybe.