I’m not ready to fully cop to it yet, but I’m starting to think that tweeting is killing my blogging. Well that and I just never seem to have the time to put my thoughts into words, and when I do have the time I can’t ever seem to think of an appropriate way to convey correctly how I am feeling, mainly because it’s not anything specific these days.
In the span of a typical day I experience happiness and sadness and irritatedness and jubilance and frustration and passion and OMGMYCATSARESOCUTE. Some would call this crazy; I just call it being Megan. And I like it, but it’s hard to nail down to a blog entry sometimes.
If you look at my Flickr pictures you could probably get a better idea of what I’ve been doing in my every day life recently, though I’m not very good at taking pictures every day. But I do manage to take some every week, and for now that should suffice as an update into my 24/7, which I’m sure appears painfully mundane to the rest of the world.
But things are well and I’m happy, wishing as usual that the weekends and nights were longer and I had more money. The money part is mainly because I am DYING for us to find a new house that we love and then be able to magically sell our condo and move into this new abode without having to change our standard of living drastically. You know, the whole buy-what-you-need schtick. We’ve been lazily looking for a while, but lately the time that we spend at houses with front and back yards and driveways leave my heart aching for our own.
I long for the day that no matter when I come or go, I will be guaranteed a spot to leave my car that is in front of my door and nobody else besides Ian (and whoever else we invite over, of course) can park there. And if they do, I can call the cops on them. None of this having to walk across the street to a house with a driveway that parks three and ask them to please move their FIVE CARS so that my neighbors and I can park within a block of our dwelling. (I shit you not, as I typed out that sentence my sister texted me to tell me someone that doesn’t live here took my spot in front of the house AGAIN.)
But it’s not just about annoyance. Every day I imagine how incredible it will be one day to sit and pass the time with Ian and/or friends in my yard, watching the sun slowly fade away as we feel the breeze cool our skin and the grass–our grass–stick to our feet.
When we bought our condo, it was perfect for us as first-time (and broke-ass) homeowners. We have a concrete patio out back and a square section of mulch with bushes out front, and the landscaping is taken care of for us. Which is nice, even still, but I’m ready to have a yard to worry about. I even told Ian I would mow the grass (or pay a neighborhood kid to do it–you can still do that, right? Hire teenagers to mow lawns?).
We just need more living space, both outside and inside. I don’t mean need as in we’re going to die if we don’t get it, but I kind of feel like my soul needs it, if that makes any sense. I want to be able to set up a guest bedroom without sacrificing our home office. I want to be able to walk outside barefoot and commune with nature right in my own yard. I want to not be so crammed in with people I don’t really know. I want to see more green than beige when I look out my window.
And let’s be honest here: I want to yell at neighborhood kids to get off my lawn.