So ever since or very first move, I have had this thing. I can't settle. I can't make myself at home. I never paint, why would I, when I know 18 months later I am going to be painting it back to white and my husband most likely won't be there to help? I unpack in record time, then let anxiety take hold of me every time a new item comes through the door. Every time we get something new, all I can think of is it is going to be another thing for me to pack up in a few months.
Every time we move I have to pass out all my plants herbs I have been tending to, only to buy new pots, and new plants when we get to the new home.
I am NOT settled in Hawaii. We unpacked in record time. We have been in the house five weeks now. Everything has found a home. The walls are plastered in preschool art work. It looks like a home- but I haven't decided on that yet.
But the universe is trying like hell to convince me.
I have been stubborn, and cheap, and refused to buy new planters. Really it is getting old. But after spending a small fortune in basil I decided it was time to cave and go pick some up. I spent fifteen minutes fighting with myself in the garden center. "I want those nice pots, I am not dropping that kind of money to throw it away again in the next couple of months." Back and forth. Really annoyed and pissed and just an all around bad attitude. So I pick up two, grab some basil and chives, and decide that, is enough. This will never be home. And I am not trying to make it home. It is a vacation spot. I am on a three year vacation.
On the way home, Chris turned right instead of left and said he wanted to drive around the block to see the neighborhood (he is such a grandpa.) And wouldn't you know- there sitting on the lawn for garbage was seven HUGE planters, full of Hawaiian flowers. I stopped and knocked on the door and asked if they were throwing them out. "Yeah, we are PCSing, you know how it is. Do you need help loading them in your car?"
I have to say, my backyard looks pretty damn home-y.
Touche, Universe. Touche.