Yesterday, I stood in front of an amazing group of women and spoke about transforming your house into a home.
We talked about paint colors and accessories and creative projects and shopping tips and what you should always do at a yard sale.
I showed them pictures of my house and pictures of projects I’d done before and pictures of the farmhouse.
And everything looked perfect.
Every piece was in place.
Every floor was shiny.
Every french door looked ready to open.
I told them this story. It’s one I told three years ago, but the reminder is one that we all need every day.
All about imperfect people and the houses that love them.
Every morning when the sun peeks its sleepy head up over the horizon and the birds are waking up from their nests, I grab a cup of coffee and wake up the house.
Some people might think it’s silly or random or a little odd, and I totally get that.
But it’s kind of my thing.
You see, we are best friends…..my house and I.
And when the house is quiet and the rooms are still and no one is awake yet to ask where the Captain Crunch is ….
….we have a heart to heart.
Yesterday I walked down the stairs and talked about how it was about to be painted.
I told it I was still deciding between SW Repose Gray and SW Sandbar and we needed to discuss.
I brushed off the newel post and walked down the stairs.
And told the staircase it looked amazing.
Then I put a load of clothes in the dryer and folded a dish towel.
I pushed burlap-lined basket back into its cubby and put a few dishes away and wiped off the top of the microwave.
And I told the laundry room that it sparkled.
In the living room, I fluffed two pillows, rearranged the chairs and fixed the table.
I picked up a deck of cards left over from last night.
And wondered why cards and monopoly games never seem to pick themselves up.
Then I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of coffee.
And turned on a light.
And started the dishwasher.
And told the kitchen I needed a hair appointment.
Then I turned on the lights in the bathroom.
And straightened the towels.
And folded a washcloth.
I saved the dining room for last.
It’s my favorite.
In the morning, the sun comes shining through the windows, making the chandelier sparkle and the burlap curtains glow.
It’s extra fancy.
I told the dining room table I needed to fix the centerpiece and rearranged the dishes and started to fluff the curtains.
The house was almost ready for the day.
The day was going to be amazing.
And as I quietly, almost reverently, walked behind the chairs….
….suddenly I jumped like someone told me there was a sale in the dollar aisle at Target.
What in the world?
What was that in my sparkling, shining, twinkling, almost-woken-up dining room?
And I looked down at the perfectly patterned rug that coordinated with the beautiful gray color on the walls next to my linen covered dining room armchairs seated at my newly painted white table….
….to see dog poop between my toes.
Life lessons from a house.
Some days you are amazing.
And some days you step in it. 🙂
PS Buddy was smiling at me as I wrote this.