I've become that needy, materialistic, shallow person that I always try to avoid in my life. ( Hard to do that now that she's staring back at me when I look into the mirror...)
I've always prided myself into being satisfied with the things I'm given. I've learned to actually enjoy reusing and redesigning and rethinking the dull, ordinary things that surround me in my home. I've been happy and satisfied living in this little cabin for over a year and a half.
But, lately, something in me has snapped. A giant dream virus has taken over and all I want to do is plan and imagine and covet all things beautiful. Sofas, dishes, thick, thirsty towels...coffee table books, chandeliers, soft rugs...duvet covers, throw pillows, giant art and sculpture...
Need I go on?
Well, there's a canister set I need, some cute cloth napkins I've Pinterested and paint chips I've chosen for every room of my new " yet to be built" house.
This is the giving time of year. When you reach out to others. Give thanks for all you have. Enjoy friends and family and simple pleasures. And here I am- all strung out on the perfect sconce choice, the layout of my living room furniture, and those sweet dinner plates with the deer dressed in gingham.
I'm a mess. A total loser. I've neglected cleaning my fridge. And every time I open it and the spilled pickle juice wafts into my nostrils, I just shut it, get on Lowes and search for some gigantic super fridge that will fit in my new kitchen someday. That search leads to a new dishwasher, microwave, range and cookware. Then to throw rugs, drapery, and even spoon rests.
I'm obsessed. And shallow. I should be finding that last little Christmas gift. Or mopping the floors. Or dusting the DVR that looks like it's been snowed on...
Is there help for me? Can I shake this "I want everything" attitude? Am I going to have to destroy my computer and attend therapy?
It's pitiful. But is it really so bad to want a place to roll out dough? A bathtub to soak in? A cabinet lined neatly with soup cans and jars of dried beans and rice? A cute cookie jar on the counter? A big window where I can watch the birds? A bedroom with a door? A microwave I can use without having to shut the bathroom door first? A private place? Lots and lots of lighting? A place I can play music and open windows and enjoy dusting and cleaning and living in?
So sorry. This is a rant. Yet, a true confession.
I do love my little cabin. We still lay awake at night and say, "We live here". And we laugh and breathe deep and talk about how beautiful and peaceful it is here. How lucky we are to be together and have this place and enjoy the nature surrounding us. How the stars hang like giant diamonds and the moon lights up the woods like black lace and the pine trees sing songs we are just beginning to learn.
Maybe this crazy needy thing is just temporary. An old age phase I'm going through. Maybe it's just my way of sorting out ideas and creativity and plans I'm going to have to make later anyway.
Whatever it is, I'm not really liking being shallow. It's unattractive and selfish and doesn't pair well with the lifestyle we've chosen for ourselves.
I know I'm going to have to wait a few more months on my house. It's going to be beautiful no matter what. I'll just wash up a few of my rugs, fill the old cookie jar, throw a favorite quilt on the bed and bring out the ugly China.
There's no doubt I'll be happy. I'll be whole again. I'll quit wishing and wanting and just learn to be thankful.
And I just might even clean the fridge.