A Vote of Confidence

Our yard is a mess. Our front porch, in the absence of a garage, acts like a shelter for tools, boxes, chainsaws, things that are in transition.

It's a mess.

Ugh.

About a week ago we had our friend over for dinner and as he sat down I told him, "One day you're going to come over here and I won't be living in squalor."

One day.

We order a lot of our materials online and have them delivered. I often wonder what our long suffering postal people think of the battleground that is our yard. I worry about them hauling heavy boxes on our rickety stairs or putting a foot through the dry rot in the porch.

Today while I was home the mail man came by to deliver some small packages and double check to make sure he hadn't accidentally delivered a neighbor's package earlier in the week. I took the opportunity to apologize for the state of the yard and porch.

"Haha! Don't worry about it. I know you're working over here. One day I'm going to come by and be like- WHOAH."

Yes, sweet Postman. One day! One day we'll knock your socks off.

It's that idea that gets me through it sometimes....I just have to imagine what it'll be like when it's done. A recurring fantasy that I have when I'm painting or moving bricks or stepping precariously around a stack of chainsaws in the laundry room goes like this:

Setting: A fabulous party

Guest: Wow. I can't believe it. This place looks amazing.  I remember when it was just a cardboard box with mud slathered all over it and your yard looked like a flea market. Now it looks like something out of Garden and Gun.

Me: Yup.

~END SCENE~

Because this scene is nice and short I have plenty of time to go over and over and over it as I'm shoving a flannel sheet into the cracks in the back door so that the cold air doesn't come in.

One day.