Everybody who’s ever lived through renos knows the truth: nothing goes to plan. Not the timeline. Not your sanity. Not the “It’ll only take a month” optimism your contractor said with a straight face. I sat down to write today like a responsible author-person. Coffee? Made. Tabs? Closed (mostly). Brain? Attempting to load fantasy romance.exe….
Renovations don’t start with demolition. They start with optimism. You know, that sweet, delusional belief that you’ll “still be able to use the kitchen a little.” That you’ll “just make simple meals.” That your stove won’t end up under a tarp like it’s a haunted relic the contractors warned you not to uncover. My stove…
I need to report a developing situation in my home. My cat, Halo, has decided that wind is her mortal enemy. Not thunder. Not fireworks. Not the vacuum (which feels suspicious, honestly).Wind.Air.The outdoors… touching her face. It started the way all betrayals do: with me trying to be a functional adult. I cracked a window…
This morning I looked up from my laptop and realized I’m being supervised. Not casually. Not lovingly. Supervised the way you supervise someone who has made a series of questionable life choices and is now pretending they’re “fine” while surrounded by cardboard boxes and dust. My cat is unimpressed with the renovations. Not “mildly annoyed.”…
It’s that time of year again. The calendar flips, the internet lights a ceremonial candle, and we all gather around the glowing altar of The New Year’s Resolution like it’s going to personally tuck us into bed, wash the dishes, and fix our emotional damage. Spoiler, it will not. But still, we try. Because hope…
You know that magical time right before Christmas when you swear you are calm and collected… and then you realize you bought stocking stuffers for everyone except the people who actually live in your house? Yes. That time. I always have this sweet vision of the week before Christmas: candles lit, music playing, me gliding…
By the time I turned into the mall parking lot, I knew I had made a mistake. Cars crawled in circles, each one stalking a potential parking spot like it was the last slice of Christmas cheesecake. I did slow laps around the lot, pretending to be calm while quietly wishing I had stayed home….
Every year I tell myself I’m going to be sensible about the holidays.I will not buy more wrapping paper.I will not eat my body weight in shortbread.I will not reread or rewatch a mountain of Christmas stories. And every year I lie. Because here is the truth: I am a complete pushover for Christmas stories….
Christmas at my house is no longer about the tree, the lights, or the presents. It is about Halo.Obviously. I spent the afternoon being a responsible adult: wrapping gifts, ticking names off my list, trying not to eat my own body weight in shortbread. I had the tissue paper fluffed just right, presents bagged, tags…
I put up my Christmas tree this week. Well—I attempted to put up my Christmas tree.What actually happened was a battle of strategy, willpower, and feline determination that I absolutely did not win. You’d think after all these years I’d learn, but no. Every November I step into the ring like some wide-eyed optimist thinking, This time…
