Random musings from a Wife, Mom, Homeschooler, Student, and Friend

Yep. We’ve lived here since June, and it has finally happened. My first crisis-driven game of musical chairs, the furniture edition. Why this always seems to hit when I reach the mid-point in one of my classes is a mystery. Must have something to do with my tendency towards procrastination. I can’t do my schoolwork if I can’t get to my computer, can I? ;o)

So, things are a mess. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think that the perfect furniture arrangement holds the key to a life of happiness. If the sofa is shifted just two inches further down the wall, then world peace will break out. Children will sing songs in the streets. Clothing will repel dog hair. Febreeze will actually clean those undies. In reality, if the sofa is shifted down two inches, then I have move the TV stand, which means I have to move the armchair, which means the bookcase won’t fit, which means I need to spray paint something…anything…to make it right.

Rearranging furniture really has nothing to do with anything but my attitude. The state of my house=the state of my heart. And my heart is in chaos. I miss my home. I miss my friends. I miss suburbia. This is turning into one year in an isolated, dirty, urban bubble. The trash all over the streets, the graffiti, the unsafe conditions are getting to me. My kids can’t ride their bikes or rollerskate here. There are no friendly neighborly chats over the backyard fence here. If there is a chat over the fence it is about the stalker guy who is peeping in our windows at night or the guy in the white pickup truck who tries to lure kids who are outside playing. Will our kids forgive us for robbing them of “Just One Year?” Will next year be any better when we pick them up and move them again? Where are we going to go?

It is much easier to manhandle a chair or a cabinet than it is to grapple with all this.  Despite it all, joy comes in the morning, right? I can hear the pitter-patter of pure joy upstairs. Time to make breakfast, give hugs to my little joy-makers, and remind myself that this too will pass. Both the good and the bad. All that matters is the good.

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