We had a mini-vacation by going to Charlotte for CKC there last week. Hubby had business there too (made the trip useful for him to be able to create appointments since we’d be there.)
It was nice, in some ways. Hard, in many ways. Nice to get home. Not nice to get home.
Home is static. Flooring waiting to be installed. Stuff waiting to get sorted through. Never enough energy for the latter. Never enough help to gain such energy (by shared effort.)
My kitchen is a sore point. My living room is a sore point. My basement “family room” is anything but nice. Junky couch (really a partial couch) and not enough seating for my family unless bringing in kitchen chairs if we watch a movie together.
Anyhow, I’m just tired thinking of it all. Same old, same old. There are other things to do, always. So we live with it all. Going away just makes it more painful to live with again when returning. It’s like a wound, scabbed over, the wound is there, but covered with scab. Going away it seems like the scab falls off, wound healed. Coming back it’s just like the scab was just masquerading as healed, and it’s split wide open with the effort of going back realized.
It helps to write about it. Hopefully my hubby and I can get some things done in the house now that we have no “trip” that’s coming up. If only he’d be able to be motivated. Oh, then there is the long summer grass. It’s getting longer every day. That takes up so much time. I hate grass. It’s the enemy of household renovation, of weekend fun. It’s a slave driver. I’m full of cheerful thoughts today, aren’t I?