It was sooooo windy here today that our metal and wood patio table blew over and slid all over the deck. I won't complain because folks north of us are blanketed in the "joy" of an early Spring snow storm. In any case, here I sit mildly depressed and blogging while all the mulch from my landscaping blows away.
You see, I have a syndrome. I think my husband would call it Impossible to Please-itis. My house is perfectly suitable, warm, plumbed, and toileted to be a castle for many less fortunate people. I, however, am displeased. I hate this house. I hate that I'm here all the time. I hate that no matter where I am in the house I can hear kids. I hate that we haven't painted any rooms besides the kids' rooms (which leads me to believe that my priorities are in the wrong place). Although I am happy to have the means to buy our children lots of toys, I hate that we have absolutely no room for any of it. I hate that it's so freakin' hot in here in the summer that we sit and sweat. I hate that my "backyard" is a mud hole in the winter and a weed patch in the summer.
I especially hate that every time we move, our house is worse than the one before. I don't want people to come here, and I don't want to go to other people's houses because they have nicer things. So, I'm left pretty isolated in this house I hate.
I don't want to sound like I hate the life that goes on in this house. However, I often feel like something just isn't right here. I love living in Lincoln, but I only wish we had the means to have a better life here. God, just typing this makes me feel worse. My eyes are filling with tears, wondering why I can't be happy among the many blessings I have. Maybe I'll never be happy.
1 comment:
Sounds to me like you suffer from the Cold Wind in Nebraska syndrome, also known as Why the F&*K isn't it Spring Yet?
I am a big fan of paint for housing happiness. But painting with 4 kids underfoot pretty much sounds like hell. Sounds like a project for the hubby's return.
Hope tomorrow is better.
gurce = ?
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