If I were designing my dream home, I would incorporate at least one springline window. One would be sufficient. The home would have a red brick exterior, an “open” layout with lots of high ceilings and room to roam (and, of course, a circular path that little children can make laps on – they always seem to make their own if one isn’t obvious!). The yard would be well-maintained --- professionally, with an emphasis on Florida friendly plants which do not suck down sprinkler water but instead utilize the resources available to them. As far as location, I have that one pretty much “down” – we waited years to get into this neighborhood, one with large lot sizes (around 3 acres), with one road in and one road out, lovely homes and a relaxed homeowners’ association.
Honestly, though, even if I had unlimited resources at my disposal, I don’t think I would pursue something drastically expensive and showy. For one thing, there are so many people in the world who have so very little as far as living arrangements. This is why I will never buy an exorbitantly priced rug, for example, and tend toward decorative touches that make a statement more than taking up room.
When I ruminated over this post since the random number generator dropped it in my lap on Monday (thanks RNG), what I kept coming back to was the fact that my dream home would be one with less CHAOS. Now, CHAOS means one thing to Flylady followers (Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome), an acronym that implies the impending arrival of company or, God forbid, a drop in visitor, sends the homeowner into a tizzy of damage control.
Chaos also means something broader. When Chris Russell, host of the “runrunlive” podcast, closes out his podcast, he often ventures away from running technique and into philosophy (runners can be that way). In the episode I was listening to last night, he started talking about chaos in our lives. At one point, Chris said “A life well lived is on the border of chaos and order.” For my home, regardless of the color brick or the shape of the windows, it is my dream to migrate from the far fringes of “chaos” more toward the middle ground of order.
In her book, An Altar in the World, Barbara Brown Taylor writes about reframing the way we look at the task of housework. She chooses to call these tasks “the domestic arts, paying attention to all the ways they return me to my senses.” She writes about the beauty of cleaning baseboards to get back in touch with yourself. Among other things, it gets you down on your knees!
Why, in at least a year (probably longer), has no one in this four person family tackled this kind of thing?:
No time like the present (back in a moment):
Home is feeling less chaotic and more dreamy already.