Confession

Two things:

Number 1:

I believe that when we live in a house of our own, not an apartment, life will be better. I picture myself cooking in a kitchen that has room for all my gadgets, and making yeast products on counters that are not cluttered with non-food related objects with the time that magically appears when you upgrade to a bigger living area. I picture an immaculate storage room with neatly labeled boxes full of perfectly organized items that have been that way since the moving boxes were unpacked (which, of course, is a week after we move in.) I think of playing with my kids and doing crafts on a table that doesn't need to be cleared by 5:00 because it's not the dinner table in my otherwise tidy living area with the tidy children that come with a mortgage.

I clearly understand on a very conscious level that this is completely absurd in a severe sort of way. I just haven't figured out how to stop myself from dreaming, and it gets harder and harder as will finishes up his first masters degree and gears up for his last 6 months of school and I'm cooped up inside with terrible weather outside. I wish someone would give me an antidote.

Number 2:

Why didn't I think of this before?