The Creative Nest

The second the weather gets nice, does anybody else suddenly feel personally attacked by their own house? Like why is it that the moment the sun comes out and there’s a slight breeze, my brain decides I should repaint furniture, reorganize closets, plant flowers, wash the car, deep clean the house, walk the dogs, power wash something, and somehow become an Olympic-level productive human being all before 2 p.m.? Meanwhile, during winter, I considered getting off the couch twice a major accomplishment and called it “self-care.” And heaven forbid you sit down for five minutes when the weather is beautiful outside. Oh no. Suddenly the guilt creeps in like, “You should be doing something productive.” Why? Why can’t I just sit outside with a coffee and stare dramatically into the distance like a retired movie star with absolutely no responsibilities? But instead, I end up outside looking at random things thinking, “You know what this yard needs? More work.” It’s honestly exhausting how quick...

Let’s talk about the waiting game. Specifically, the emotional rollercoaster that is package delivery day. At first, when you place the order, you’re calm. Mature. Grounded. You tell yourself it will arrive when it arrives. You are a patient adult. You have perspective. Life goes on. That version of you lasts approximately 48 hours.  The moment tracking becomes available, you transform. You check it once. Then twice. Then casually every hour, just to “see if it moved.” Suddenly you are deeply invested in the logistics network of the entire country. You know when it has arrived at a facility, departed a facility, and apparently taken a scenic tour of somewhere you did not authorize. Then it happens. The words appear. “Out for Delivery.” Everything changes. You are no longer productive. You are alert. Hyperaware. Every engine sound outside becomes significant. Every truck that passes your street is potentially carrying your treasure. You find yourself peeking through blinds like ...