I used to live
in a nice house in the suburbs.
It was clean and organized,
the rooms were decorated,
and you could actually see
the floors.
(Hardwood throughout)
I used to have friends over
every weekend for happy hours
by the fire.
.
But lately I feel
like I live more
in a barn than my own home.
Two actually.
One's an old dairy barn in Buckeystown
and the other's a former horse stable in
Gambrills.
The line has been blurred
between my real home and
my barns away from home.
My once decorated rooms
merchandise
waiting to be tagged,
painted, wired
or transformed.
My house has price
tags all over it!
It's like everything is for sale.
Like the pair of vintage
shipping crates I found at
the auction that are now
my family room end tables.
(Currently tagged at $298 each)
The cubby I bought to sell
that houses
my growing wine collection, which
I don't have time to drink
with my friends.
($249)
All tagged.
Waiting to sell or waiting to enjoy.
The line has been blurred.
I've been spending too much time
consumed with my business
and not enough time
consumed with my life.
Maybe it's the change of seasons,
or my recent awareness of life's fragility,
but it's time I find some balance.
I want my house back and
I could really go for a great
bottle of wine.