Although the MTWSH is always telling me that my obsession with hanging pictures, changing the room order, and laying coloured fabrics is a nesting instinct and that, before I know I'll be begging him to make me a baby, I've always argued that what I have is an "Ikea instinct"... redecorate your life. That or maybe a little bit of OCD too.
Lately, like for the last three or four years, my redecorating instinct has been kicking really hard, asking me for a radical makeover. Not in the sense of painting the walls in a fucsia pink or changing the chairs in the living room, but more in a selling all that in a garage sale and move to another country kinda way. The destination doesn't matter. I'm not going to say the farther, the better, because my mom would suffer a heart attack, but almost. I want that, a radical makeover. I want the change so bad I am willing to give up the countries with perpetual snow for those with palm trees and beaches. Really. I don't care, I just want to leave.
But then one can't be bothered. You need to look for the place, do all the paperwork so they let you in, save the money to eat while you're there, pack at least a pair of undies and a toothbrush... I mean, so many things. In the rush it can be very exciting. But nah, it passes fast. Then it is just a matter of rutine. It's true that living in another country is always a little bit more exciting, even if it's only because the place is different, the people is different, you don't know anything... and it's an adventure.
But no, what for? why change all that it's taken you so long to gather (furniture, books, dust) for something only because it's exciting? That's so silly.
Lately, like for the last three or four years, my redecorating instinct has been kicking really hard, asking me for a radical makeover. Not in the sense of painting the walls in a fucsia pink or changing the chairs in the living room, but more in a selling all that in a garage sale and move to another country kinda way. The destination doesn't matter. I'm not going to say the farther, the better, because my mom would suffer a heart attack, but almost. I want that, a radical makeover. I want the change so bad I am willing to give up the countries with perpetual snow for those with palm trees and beaches. Really. I don't care, I just want to leave.
But then one can't be bothered. You need to look for the place, do all the paperwork so they let you in, save the money to eat while you're there, pack at least a pair of undies and a toothbrush... I mean, so many things. In the rush it can be very exciting. But nah, it passes fast. Then it is just a matter of rutine. It's true that living in another country is always a little bit more exciting, even if it's only because the place is different, the people is different, you don't know anything... and it's an adventure.
But no, what for? why change all that it's taken you so long to gather (furniture, books, dust) for something only because it's exciting? That's so silly.
0 lindezas:
Publicar un comentario