Nothing ever stops me from thinking big thoughts. I have tons of big dreams. It goes with the overactive brain of mine.
I am a “member” (I like to make it sound so g.l.a.m.o.r.o.u.s) of many realtor websites: Zillow and Redfin to name two.
This morning, while browsing my inbox, I discover that I am hypnotized by the most stunning home in my same zip code – only it sits directly on the water. The ocean, folks! I have studied every picture to reveal the condition of all the floors, closet space, size of the pool, and which rooms have a view of the ocean. I have nearly made an offer and can literally see most of my furniture loaded on the back of a moving truck.
By the way, I am still in my bed and in my pajamas. The most I have done today is re-heat the McDonald’s coffee that my first-mate brought me this morning at a time that was way too early to drink it.
I’ve already decided that my favorite piece of artwork would look amazing on the right-hand wall of the new house when you walk in the front door. I have started to think about the fictional closing date, and off in the distance, living in that house, which I absolutely adore.
Presently, I can hear one of my dogs in the beginning stages of snarfing up what must be something my teenage son left too close to the edge of the kitchen counter…
Wait. I need a second or two. I can’t stop laughing out loud. When has my eighteen-year-old ever brought something back to the kitchen?
Back to reality. One of my dogs, Pippa, has knocked her head into his bedroom door like the greatest linebacker in history and devoured every remnant of his Checkers order, including the wrapper. I have the evidence. It is right in front of my bed in two separate, regurgitated piles.
Pippa is fine. The other dogs may have their moment soon since she has now paved the way to the food. Normally Ellie gets there first since she is the one who found a loop-hole in the first place to his bedroom: a door that will not close all the way. Even the furniture my son puts against his door can’t keep them out.
Poor guy, an absolute nightmare for any 18-year-old kid to not have a door that he can properly close to keep this menagerie (or his mother) out. How great for me, the mom who doesn’t get blamed for the intrusion, but sits in the background waiting for my moment to pop myself in to check on him. “Oh, Hi D! Those darn dogs did it again! You might want to consider taking your uneaten food downstairs to the garbage so you don’t have to clean up their mess!”
Well, now the house I was dreaming about 30 minutes ago, the one that sits directly on the ocean, gets annihilated in my brain with a scripted bubble over my head that reads, “POOF!” Those beautifully-renovated floors couldn’t withstand all that our family has to offer. Nor could I afford to make an offer since as I mentioned earlier, it is on the ocean. Sigh…
Off to put items in my virtual shopping cart and pretend to check-out.
See Ya!
Love and Live Who you Are,
Courtney