I miss my sewing machine. I’m having dreams about it. And if it weren’t buried at the very bottom and back of a 10×7 ft storage unit that is packed to the very ceiling I would go get it, house staging be darned.
See, when we decided to sell our house we packed up half our stuff and put it in a storage unit. The thought is to make the house look larger and neater. You know – more like a magazine. Because when you buy our house, you won’t need trash cans in the bathrooms. Or end tables. Or sewing machines.
And our house does look great – it’s the closest I will ever come to living in a Dwell magazine. But magazine living has grown a bit tiresome. It turns out I’m not as much a purger as I thought. I miss the extras. I miss the art supplies I curse every time they get taken out and strewn across the dining room table. I miss my cooking gear. I wanted to make a tart the other day, and my tart pan is packed. And of course, I miss my sewing and craft supplies.
I do like parts of this magazine living though. I like the fact that my house gets picked up every day. Our yard no longer looks like a low-rent daycare with broken toys littering it. And our shower no longer has an overflowing caddy threatening to spill every time we step in (though that’s actually the thing J misses the most!).
Overall this is a good lesson in discipline for us. Rarely in the past month have I been embarrassed to have people see the state of my living room. Even my in-laws coming for a visit didn’t send me into a cleaning panic! But I’m guessing this isn’t sustainable. Once we are done with the whole real estate thing, my slovenly-ness is going to be back with a vengeance. But that’s alright. Living in a magazine is overrated anyway.