During the shutdown stage of Covid-19, I decided to move my blog to Word Press, and try to make it more....I don't know, professional? But I'm not sure why, really, because I've never had a big plan for my blog. Truly it's just an outlet for my writing, and I have had times when I've been inspired to write daily, and times when I've gone months without writing. And I guess that's the beauty of it, because as an amateur writer, there's no pressure to work on a deadline. I write for me, but I also hope that some of what I write resonates with others. If so, I hope I've made a connection. If not, nothing lost.
So, I'm not sure why it feels like a chore to write daily. First, I often think I couldn't possibly have anything to say each day. But I talk all day, so I have stories, right? Maybe I just think they're not interesting enough to share. And I don't like setting goals to write each day because I know I'll fail, so why even bother setting myself up for disappointment? Every November, I tell myself I'll join NaNoWriMo, where the goal is to write a novel in a month. And sometimes I get five days in and I get bored with my story, or I just don't feel it anymore so I quit. I've never been a great goal-setter. Last February, right before Covid hit, I made a goal to exercise every day of the month. I managed to exercise 19 of the 29 days in February. (I just had to look to see if this year was a leap year, because it seems like February was 100 years ago). So, not perfect. But not terrible either.
Any maybe I'm just really, really good at being mediocre. That seems to hold true for my life so far. And that's ok. I mean, not everyone is meant to be on top, right? I remember seeing a mug that said "The World's Okayest Mom" and it resonated with me. I admire those who can set and keep goals, whose efforts produce results, and who are motivated by bullet journaling. I like to THINK those things are part of my make-up, but it's not true. I love journals, paper and pens but like everything else in my life, they lose their luster after a while.
Still, I think if I don't ever set goals, I'll just melt into a puddle of disappointment so I'm still trying. I woke up today, November 1, thinking I'd participate in the "gratitude a day" posts on Facebook that have been popular over the years. This one I like because we all could use a reminder of what we are grateful for and in our busy lives, it's easy to forget. I'm honestly grateful for the most mundane things so I imagine my posts will include such things as coffee and stickers. But I wake up every morning thinking how much I love my house, so there are big things too. And, of course, the immeasurable things like love and happiness.
I'd like to write daily. I've actually been pretty good about keeping a coronavirus journal - documenting things from the first day of the first death in WA state. It focuses mainly on Washington but I included "headlines" from all over, with a few of my own thoughts mixed in. I've missed 4-5 days at times, but I always catch up. So far, I have over 100k words, so basically, I have already written a book. Maybe I'll polish it up and publish it someday. Maybe not. Either way, I think it's important to document this time in history, and I know I'll look back on it over the years. It might be the most consistent thing I've done all year.
I've learned to have a little grace with myself, especially during these weird times, if I don't achieve a goal, or even if I don't complete a chore. I had nothing but time for the six months I was off work, but did I lose 50 lbs or finish (ahem, start) a book or learn a new skill? I did not. I did read a bunch of books. And I reacquainted myself with word searches and sticker books. And I sent tons of happy mail. I also watched a lot of TV and stocked up on Little Debbie snack cakes before I stocked up on toilet paper. So, I'm hopelessly flawed, but I'm ok with it. I think.
And now we are on the cusp of an historic election. The divisiveness has never been more real. Things could go either way and whatever happens, there will be unrest. I feel anxiety about November 3, and Covid-19, and the future of my substitute teaching job, and about a zillion other things. And this year it's all elevated. I don't know when I will feel calm again, but I doubt it will be anytime soon. So, I'm learning to live with uncertainty.
For seven months, we have been searching for a new house. We don't need a new house. We love our house. But Jeff longs for a house with more yard and a big shop for all his "stuff". I spent all of my life until high-school graduation moving nearly every year, so I'm always up for an adventure. Jeff saw a house that was lakefront with a big shop and he contacted our friend (a realtor) and asked to get more information about it. We never even saw that house, but we've seen more than 50 since then. We seriously entertained making an offer on two. Several others were contenders but they sold before we could even talk about it. The market is fierce and waits for no one these days, so we've missed out on a few gems, but even among those nothing has been perfect. And of course, we realize nothing will ever be "perfect" but if we are going to spend upwards of a million dollars on a home, it needs to be something we absolutely love and are willing to leave our wonderful home for. We have to "gain" as I keep saying - it needs to be an upgrade. Not necessarily brand-new, but something better than what we have (more yard, big shop, more space). Otherwise, we might as well stay put.
To that end, I've been meeting with contractors (11 at last count) to get bids for upgrading the home we live in. After twenty years, things are showing wear and need upgrading or replacing. Only about half of the contractors have come back with an estimate. Many have taken weeks to get back to me. And we are still unsure how much to invest in upgrading our home if there's a chance we might be moving out of it. At the very least, we will be upgrading the kitchen and baths. A new roof is already scheduled. And maybe we will just stay until all the young adults move out and this house feels too big for us. Who knows? I'm pretty sure our realtor is sick of us by now. That's the trouble with having a friend who is a realtor - you really walk a thin line between remaining friendly and risking severing the professional ties. Sure, he could fire us, but the chance we will eventually buy something remains high. Still, every time we say "no" it feels like a nick in the relationship.
So, maybe I'll make and keep some goals. And maybe I won't. If things go well, I'll exercise daily, write daily, focus on gratitude, and maybe buy a dream house. If things don't go well, I'll eat my weight in leftover Halloween candy, write nothing and get fired by my realtor. Who knows? The best-laid plans often go awry. But I can keep trying.
