Much as I like to think writing is a cumulative activity — the more you write, the more you keep writing — sometimes there’s so much going on that even five minutes on another project is more than you can spare. And there has been a lot too much recently. So much, in fact, that nothing seems to ever be quite done … yet.
There’s been a lot of stuff with the house: We had a new roof put on the house last month — a big change from the flat roof we had before. The boys loved watching the crane lift the trusses and shingles. As much as I’d love to have before-and-after photos to share, the soffits and eaves are still not finished, so it’s not quite ready to show.
Plus, after much umm-ing and ahh-ing, we’re also remodeling the master bedroom to give it a good-sized walk-in closet. We discovered soon after we moved in following the original renovation that we completely overlooked how much space is practical. Even after seriously purging my closet, and even donating some beloved but largely unworn pairs of shoes (sniff!) it was still just too tight. So we opted to borrow a bit from the over-sized room to create a workable space. I’m excited to see how it will all look, but right now, it’s just raw drywall and dust, so not photogenic at all.
We also needed to complete the landscaping that we
totally ignored didn’t manage to get to last year. It was a bit more than adding a few trees and shrubs though. There’s a new retaining wall, tons and tons of new dirt to even out the slope of the garden, new trees added, old trees pruned (and sadly, one or two that had to be taken out). It’s a huge change and I’m really pleased with it. But again, it’s still not quite done (read: there’s no grass yet), so I don’t want to post photos just yet.
There’s also been a lot going on with my own work, as I’m finally, finally nearing the deadline to finish my thesis.
It’s been eight years since I started. Eight years! That’s nearly a quarter of my life.
In that time, the hubs and I got married, I lost my mum, we moved four times, and we became parents to our two boys. We’ve been through job changes, office moves, failed adoptions, and not one but two major renovations.
So much of my life is in these pages. So many ideas worked out in waiting rooms; so many sentences hashed out between feedings; so many paragraphs scribbled during the precious hours of nap times.
I’m excited, certainly, to defend this project, my paper-baby, and send it out into the world. But I’m also nervous.
As I work through the last edits, iron out the inconsistencies, and standardize the format, I keep wondering: What’s going to keep me thinking, reading, and writing? What am I going to do next?