Roses and Whine

This is not the post I had planned for today. But then yesterday happened. Yesterday, my body was inhabited by the Beelzebub of Pinterest. I’m hesitant to share this because I’m afraid everyone who reads this has never experienced what I’m about to tell you. That I am the only person who can become demon possessed.

It started innocently enough, a week ago, when I had access to HGTV. I got sucked into the vortex of home makeovers and fixer uppers, and flipping, and it took me through a week of obsession before I flopped.

Almost six years ago, Brent and I bought a fixer upper, and we’ve done many an upgrade. But they haven’t been the totally fun upgrades. You know, the upgrades that provide real aesthetic and make you want to show off your home. “Oh, hello, Susan, check out our new roof! Just ignore the stained carpet below your feet, the seasick cabinets in our kitchen and bathrooms, and the linoleum and chipped tile. We like to play ‘name that shape’.” The things we want to fix come with hefty price tags, and when you’re saving for a pool, you can’t justify bleeding a few grand here and a few grand there.

Oh dear, sweet, ever-loving Pinterest. Did you know there’s a DIY for just about ANYTHING in your home? You can even paint your vinyl flooring for about $50. But here’s the thing with Pinterest. You search for one idea and it leads to another and to another and to another. It’s a black hole that leaves you floating in space unable to find your grounding. You know your oxygen is running out, but you want to see if you can make it just a liiiiitle bit longer. And, pretty soon, you’re sure Pinterest’s mission is not to help you DIY, but to help you DIE…a slow, painful death.

I must have easily logged 30 hours of DIY research in the past week. I was OBSESSED. All of the other times I’ve said I’m obsessed over something are a complete joke compared to what I experienced. I allowed it to turn me into a different person. I was so inundated with different project ideas, I didn’t know where to start. I was all over the board, and a lot of the projects would require Brent’s assistance. But he’s not home during the day, and my patience can’t be found with a magnifying glass when I have a project set in my mind. I want to start NOW!

I was sending my husband text after text asking questions about what I’d need to do in certain situations, and what he thought we could get for our leather couches and anything else I could sell in our home (because I need money to do projects, right?) After a while, he just quit responding. I was trying to list things on ebay and my computer kept freezing, and I was so frustrated and irritated, and overwhelmed, I finally had a melt down. Whoa! Houston, we have a problem. Yep. I had become a bona fide crazy lady. I needed to take a chill pill on top of my chill pill. (Is that frowned upon? Asking for a friend.)

This is the outward manifestation of how I felt on the inside.

Sometimes Jesus needs to take the wheel AND deliver a chocolate milkshake. I knew I had to remove myself from the situation just to clear my head. So I loaded up and headed to my nearest Chickfila. After wolfing down a shake and fries, I headed on to Costco just to walk around. Getting out of the toxic environment I had created for myself was the remedy I needed. I was then able to clearly see how my discontent mixed with excitement made me go kaboom! And my poor husband was collateral damage.

Once I re-centered myself (and bought 2 dozen roses because that’s the easiest way to lighten up any area in the home), I called my husband and apologized that he’d met my evil twin. He laughed, but I was serious. It wasn’t an empty apology. I genuinely felt sorry that he had to live through that crazy, because WHO WAS THAT LADY?



Nothing quite light Costco’s 24 roses for $13.99 deal!

But my husband is so wise. Last night we sat down and talked about what our goals are and what’s the best way to tackle them. So, for now, I’m just going to get my fix by painting the master bedroom (the walls are currently purple… don’t ask).

Every night, Brent and I tell each other what our favorite part of the day was. Brent shared that his favorite part of yesterday was my apology. Whaaaaaa? I told him he must have had a pretty crummy day if that was the highlight.

But he said it’s because I don’t apologize that often. (Doesn’t he know that it’s because I’m almost always right?)

Before my vacation, I knew in the back of my mind I wanted to gradually fix things up around the house, but once I saw some awesome transformations on TV, I became fixated on doing it NOW. I’ve read statistics that people who don’t log a lot of cable and social media hours are often happier than their counterparts. I think they’re on to something.

Let’s just say we won’t be ordering cable anytime soon. Oh, and if the paint job turns out all right, I’ll share with you my small victory.