Remember the Biffington-Smythe Gardening Disaster?
Dateline: New Orleans
It seems so long ago now, that garden project. And the dacha, the new floors, the reworking and refitting of every space to try and make more room, to make it expand to fit. In the end, we decided we couldn't force it to grow any more. And that maybe it was time for a Gap Year, so we set out on a road trip and ended up staying at our first stop.
The thing is, I love the UK. And I really thought, "We'll have an adventure in New Orleans, maybe move out to Thibodaux or Lafayette where it was
London It is one place I have lived longest and know best and it holds so many secrets I have yet to uncover. I craved a change, true, a smaller town, perhaps. A change of life, shorter commute, etc. And we've certainly changed things up. We threw that lovely little pile of pennies and dimes into the breeze and we bought a house that has good bones.
Yes...many lovely bones.
One day, very soon, we will laugh about all of this. We will laugh about how one of us fell in love with a yellow house and had to have it the way the other one often falls in love with hats or pieces of fabric. I curate small; Biffington-Smythe has visions that are BIG. And this vision, well...it will be something.
When I dreamed of making a new home ours (mine), I thought "...Ooh, maybe remodel a kitchen and bath. And put in a kitchen garden. The BD, she will choose her own paint. It is an adventure!" I am so very often NOT the sensible one, the pragmatic one in our relationship that when I had to take up that mantel, it hurt. The weight of wearing that role the last few months has physically pained me. My heart aches with sadness, with homesickness and confusion. I am trying but this process, the process of renovating a house I do not love, that I do not feel, it is one that I do not recommend. At least, not when there is so much else in flux.
My names Rachel (Lamb) and Marie (Melancholy) are more accurate that one could know: I am a drippy romantic; a snotty crier and I have worked very hard to be fit company for myself. But I spend more time on my own in this city I have loved and mooned over my whole life than is good for one's soul. I spend a lot of time with the city, listening to the streets, the people, the buildings, the vacant lots, the places jutting out with their hands on their hips and turning away from the crowds. I feel the city, perhaps too much, because this city is in pain and I don't know how to help it. And I can't bear to watch any one thing or any one place suffer unnecessarily.
Of course, I don't really know anything about anything. I'm just a girl who loves a boy who fell in love with a house, who is having to learn patience and persistence and is trying to be graceful, grateful, and kind.
It seems so long ago now, that garden project. And the dacha, the new floors, the reworking and refitting of every space to try and make more room, to make it expand to fit. In the end, we decided we couldn't force it to grow any more. And that maybe it was time for a Gap Year, so we set out on a road trip and ended up staying at our first stop.
The thing is, I love the UK. And I really thought, "We'll have an adventure in New Orleans, maybe move out to Thibodaux or Lafayette where it was
London It is one place I have lived longest and know best and it holds so many secrets I have yet to uncover. I craved a change, true, a smaller town, perhaps. A change of life, shorter commute, etc. And we've certainly changed things up. We threw that lovely little pile of pennies and dimes into the breeze and we bought a house that has good bones.
Yes...many lovely bones.
One day, very soon, we will laugh about all of this. We will laugh about how one of us fell in love with a yellow house and had to have it the way the other one often falls in love with hats or pieces of fabric. I curate small; Biffington-Smythe has visions that are BIG. And this vision, well...it will be something.
When I dreamed of making a new home ours (mine), I thought "...Ooh, maybe remodel a kitchen and bath. And put in a kitchen garden. The BD, she will choose her own paint. It is an adventure!" I am so very often NOT the sensible one, the pragmatic one in our relationship that when I had to take up that mantel, it hurt. The weight of wearing that role the last few months has physically pained me. My heart aches with sadness, with homesickness and confusion. I am trying but this process, the process of renovating a house I do not love, that I do not feel, it is one that I do not recommend. At least, not when there is so much else in flux.
My names Rachel (Lamb) and Marie (Melancholy) are more accurate that one could know: I am a drippy romantic; a snotty crier and I have worked very hard to be fit company for myself. But I spend more time on my own in this city I have loved and mooned over my whole life than is good for one's soul. I spend a lot of time with the city, listening to the streets, the people, the buildings, the vacant lots, the places jutting out with their hands on their hips and turning away from the crowds. I feel the city, perhaps too much, because this city is in pain and I don't know how to help it. And I can't bear to watch any one thing or any one place suffer unnecessarily.
Of course, I don't really know anything about anything. I'm just a girl who loves a boy who fell in love with a house, who is having to learn patience and persistence and is trying to be graceful, grateful, and kind.
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