This is basically a journal entry. There is no mediocre attempt at prose, no literary air, no pretending I'm a writer. This is just a girl and her diary vibe.
Just got done doing yoga and now I'm taking a bath. I had "take a ritual bath" as a goal for June, but I guess August 1st can count.
We secured a housesitter, paid and booked, though it never feels secured till the day of, when they are in the house, with the key, and we are sayonara, peacing out.
Actually, that's not quite true. It doesn't feel secure till the moment we are back, because I worry the whole time they're there.
And while, for a moment, I had grand notions that we would arrive in Florida, spend five days—one day for travel there, one day for travel back, and three days to look at houses—the reality is most likely this is just a recon trip. See some houses, see neighborhoods, go to the grocery store, swim in the hotel pool, go to some AA meetings, and get a feel for the place we want to live.
But if I am being transparent, and there is no reason not to be, we only had two people even look at our current house, and both were a solid no. Didn't even look at every room. Now, we have it overpriced. And of course we currently live here. And the economy. The economy! Why are there a handful of houses, nicer and cheaper than ours, in our neighborhood, for sale and vacant?
Now, if we found "the right house" in Florida, we would buy it. We could float two homes for a while. Heck, we talk about being a two-home family, winter and spring in Florida, summer and fall in Indiana. But it's mostly talk.
But whatever, we need a vacation or whatever. We've only been out of the house a total of ten days since we moved here in 2022. Yeah, ten whole days out of this house in four years. Maybe that's a small source of my hate for the house.
And the leak in the guest room that we've poured money and workers into with no resolution in sight. And the flickering light that the electrician is supposed to fix.
My goodness, listen to me.
I should probably also mention that life has been awesome too. At least more awesome than it's been in a while. I seem to be tapping into some energy I haven't felt in decades. Like a touch of teenager. Maybe.
I started really doing a full skincare routine every day, twice a day, a few months ago, and my face is clearer than ever. I wore makeup more this week than I did in the last three years. I googled contouring for round faces and ordered teeth-whitening strips.
I have been feeling hot. Desirable. Wanted. Captivating. Mesmerizing. Alluring. Irresistible.
Wearing pheromone perfume like who the fuck is that?
Sometimes I feel like a domestic goddess, and I won't go further into that because it's exactly how it sounds. Steak dinner, fresh-baked cookies, apron over my dress with no panties on.
Spritz spritz and a dab dab of that pheromone shit too.
And sometimes I feel like I should learn how to sharpen knives and shoot shotguns and wield nunchucks. It would be nice to have some aim with a throwing star, don't you agree?
I just feel alive in a way I haven't in a while and, earnestly, sometimes want things I had long ago packed in the back of the closet, just never got around to taking to the thrift store to donate. Life, not living, but just life, got in the way. Life like paying a mortgage and calling plumbers, not living like dancing in the office and making up pet names.
My husband says that when the time's right, it will happen. I know this is true.
For the move, for everything else too.
In a small way, I am slightly relieved. No pressure to find the right house on this little vaca getaway. Something about where I'm currently at, where I've been, has got me thinking that maybe there's a surprise around the bend if we stay where we are.
I feel like I'm hurdling toward something, and I don't know what, but I want it and I like it a lot.
