I don't know about you, but my house isn't perfect. The curtains I spent an hour ironing last night are still wrinkly, there is still a blue tint in gray paint #2 that we chose for our bay window room, and we didn't make the bed this morning. And you know what? I am totally okay with all of this. Thrilled, even! I am so thankful for all the Lord has blessed us with, and at the end of the day (and this life!) it will not matter how well my pillows coordinate with my couch, how many people comment on my posts, and whether or not my house is magazine-worthy. (Good thing, too, because it never, ever will be.) Projects and blogging are "my thing" not because I want to pretend that we are Super Genius Homeowners Who Can Do It All and Then Some, nor because I want to become A Super Famous Blogger. Very simply, I create and blog because they are a serious and much-needed de-stresser from my days at school. I love that I can write without worrying about a thesis statement, or what the minimum number of pages needs to be, or how to cite that article I found on www.i-don't-really-care-what-sophocles-meant-by-that.com. (Fellow graduates of a liberal arts college, you know what I mean.)
So in the spirit of being a real (not Super) human being who blogs about her projects and her house but knows that she can find joy in--but not obsess and envy over--the things of this earth, I've decided to start a True Confessions of an Imperfect Homeowner feature in which I don't just focus on the pretty "afters," but the little things that let me know that I shouldn't take this "I like decorating my house" thing too seriously.
To get us started, I'd like to take a moment to discuss my cats. More specifically, their fur. The floors, the stairs, the comforter, the curtains, the chair I'm sitting on, my butt when I stand up, Rick's rainbow sherbet (true story)...they're all covered in cat hair. It's the time of year when we sit and sweat, and they sit and shed. Seriously. I don't know how they aren't bald. I've asked them that very question, but they never answer.
I get frustrated with how frequently I have to dust and vacuum every surface unless I want to live in a giant hairball, and I'm not a fan of pulling up the comforter at night (which is dark gray, meaning every little speck of fur shows up--super fine choice, Erin) and inhaling a big blob of fur. I wish my house was just a tad more presentable, and I've been known to make myself crazy right before company comes over. But then I think about how much joy and laughter those two little kitties bring me, and how grateful I am to not be allergic to them, and what would our couch really look like without one of them curled up on it, and how, really, that much fur would be on any comforter: I can just more easily see that it needs to be cleaned on this one. And that's a plus, right? In the words of Legally Blonde the Musical: "Keep it positive." (The song goes on to say something about slapping someone to the floor, but that's not usually part of my mantra.)
I will NOT feel badly about something that just about every pet owner has to deal with. It doesn't make my house any less perfect for us. In fact, it really makes our home MORE perfect for us.
When I tuck myself in at night, whether I'm choking on fur or not, I have to be able to look back on my day and hope that I not only stayed positive and realistic about my life, my house, my plans, but also that I kept my heart where it mattered: my relationship with my husband, my relationship with my family, and my relationship with the Lord, the only one who deserves any glory or honor about the house and gifts that we've been blessed with, ever.
Anyone else have a true confession of an imperfect home to share? :)