if only.

Lately, I find myself wondering what life would be like if I didn’t care about my home.

Maybe I wouldn’t mind if the toilet leaked and put big, brown, threatening stains in the ceiling.

Maybe I wouldn’t demand so much of my useless maintenance man.

Maybe I wouldn’t spend hundreds of dollars at Lowe’s and Target trying to make it perfect.

Maybe I wouldn’t browse the internet looking for the perfect headboard/bedroom art/ DIY project.

Maybe wires sticking out from the TV wouldn’t bug me.

Maybe leaky faucets and swinging screen doors would have zero effect on my blood pressure.

Maybe vintage ovens that cook so s-l-o-w would just make me grin.

Maybe I’d have time to shop for new clothes or shoes or bags.

Maybe I’d go on vacation and not make a list of things to do when I got back.

Maybe books would go unshelved and studies would remain unstudious.

Maybe my back wouldn’t be sore.

Maybe mirrors would hang where they were supposed to, and if they didn’t, I wouldn’t notice.

Maybe I wouldn’t stub my toes or step on something sticky or cry out in frustration.

Maybe, though, just maybe…

I’d be bored.

{pictures of home renovations to come}