The Creative Nest

Do you ever lose something and become completely convinced that it is gone forever? Not misplaced. Not temporarily missing. Gone. You search the obvious places. Then you search the places that make absolutely no sense. You check the same drawer three times because apparently the missing item might magically appear if you look at it with a different attitude. You move things around. You mutter under your breath. You accuse everyone in the household of moving it, even though you know perfectly well they probably had nothing to do with it. Eventually, you give up. “It’s gone,” you declare. And that’s that. You replace it. You buy another one. You move on with your life. Then, three weeks later, you open a drawer you haven't touched since approximately 2019 and there it is. THE MISSING THING. Suddenly, it feels like Christmas morning. Forget presents. Forget twinkling lights. Forget the smell of cookies baking in the oven. I found the damn thing I thought I lost! There should honestly...

 Let’s talk about questions. Specifically, the same question. Over and over. And over. And over. How many times can someone ask you the exact same question before you start getting irritated? I’m genuinely curious because apparently there is a number. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet. The first time someone asks me something, I’m happy to answer. No problem. Ask away. I am a wealth of useless information and reasonably useful information, depending on the subject. The second time? Still fine. Maybe they forgot. Maybe they weren't listening the first time. Maybe their brain was busy thinking about something else. It happens. The third time, I might start wondering if we are having a communication issue. By the fourth time, I’m thinking, “We have discussed this.” By the fifth time, my answer may become slightly more concise. By the sixth time? Well… How attached are you to getting an answer that doesn't involve me screaming?   There is something about being asked the s...

Are you a creature of habit? I’m talking about the kind of person who has a routine. A real routine. A carefully constructed little schedule that tells you what happens next and, more importantly, when it happens. Coffee at this time. Shower at that time. Work starts at this time. Lunch at this time. Dinner at this time. Bed at this time. Everything has its place. Everything makes sense. Everything is under control. And then… life laughs.   Because apparently, the universe enjoys taking perfectly reasonable routines and throwing them directly into a wood chipper. Maybe you planned to run a few errands in the morning, but suddenly the store is packed, the drive-thru line is approximately 47 miles long, and somebody has decided that today is the perfect day to reorganize the entire checkout system. Maybe you planned to get something done at home, but your dog needs something, the phone rings, you forgot you needed an ingredient, and suddenly it’s 2:30 in the afternoon and you’re sta...