In Support of Firemen Everywhere

I'd like to bitch about being alone for Valentine's Day, but I really can't make myself.  I'm fucking HAPPY, and that's maybe weird, because I swear, this is my favorite V-Day ever.  I'm getting cable today, y'all.  HAPPY DANCE MOMS TO ME.

I have (finally) had two days in a row where there has been nothing new broken in the house.  The last of the urgent paint needs has been addressed (this weekend, I'll touch up the few spots in my bathroom that are driving me crazy).  There's a range, and a dishwasher.  Cooking has been done.  Clothes have been laundered.  Boxes have been unpacked (though, let's don't get crazy, there are more awaiting me.)

I'm getting settled.  I know the house's noises.  The train is not too close, just close enough to sound cozy when it goes by.  There's a fire house at the entrance to the neighborhood, and we all know how I feel about firemen.

Oh.

Yes.  We do.


Oh, my God.

Anyway, what?  What were we talking about????

The house.  The neighborhood.  I think we might bake something to bring to the firehouse.  Those poor boys are fucking hot hungry.

We need to go to the library.

We need to go to the post office, too.

And the bank.

I have errands to run, but I also want to start raking the front yard this weekend, and stuff.

It's the weirdest thing.  Everybody told me things would feel different if it were my own house, and I didn't really believe them.  How could it feel so different?  I am a long-term renter.  I've been renting for YEARS, and I live in my houses a long time (for a renter).  You know what the difference is?  Paint.  You know what else?  Planning.  I can't stop my happy little brain from making plans for the future of this house.  I know what wall I will eventually tear down.  I know what window will become a door.

I also know that La Hacienda will be getting a beer fridge, and soon, and that, my friends?  THAT is awesomeness.

Also, the baby will start to ride the school bus on Monday (!) (MY BABY ON A BUS!) (!!!), which will buy me a half hour every single morning, in which I can run.  It's time to get back into running.  I'm missing it, and my body misses it, and January is not too far in the future, and there's that 2 mile race in March, too...  it's time.

So that's the plan for the weekend.  There are parades tomorrow and Sunday, but I'm feeling very ambivalent about them.  I'm not sure what's wrong with me, usually I can't wait to get to the route, but this year, I'm distracted.

You know why?

Because it is different when it's yours.