I am a "cart-before-the-horse" kind of girl.
I have been known to eat dessert first at restaurants.
I'm normally elbow deep in a project before I've even considered the full cost of the job.
And I have a hard time following schedules.
If anything is organized in my house, it's because the left side of my brain did a massive takeover of the right side of my brain and told it to shape up.
So naturally I started this blog without much thought for the story that went behind it.
May I tell you a story?
Many years ago, a young couple fell in love, married and moved to the Chicago burbs. They moved during a seller's market and had a hard time finding a house in their price range. They had a few dollars to their name, thought they were rich (bahaaa!) and finally found the home for which they longed: a small, two-bedroom, fixer-upper bungalow.
They didn't know it at the time, but the house needed a lot of work.
It took five years and a whole lot of sweat equity (that's real estate speak for "you will smell very bad until this house is to your liking".) And for the most part, they really enjoyed the process and the results. The living room went from "blue" to "true bungalow style".
The hardwood floors got a good, strong sanding.
The back room entry turned cheery with red.
A new floor and paint gave some peace to our kitchen.
After five years, the house was standing taller. The husband had finished graduate school while working full time during this period.
Oh, and we had a baby.
Let me repeat that: we had a B-A-B-Y.
We were tired. Tired, but happy.
We wanted another baby.
