Home is Where You Set Trash On the Counter


We are currently having technical difficulties, probably because Dad is trying to talk to me from the couch as I sit on my bed. And I can’t seem to get this post set up quite right.

I had a rough (mental) outline- start with how I used to, and still sometimes do, struggle with body image like most women do (who really wants breasts that refuse to be caged in by button down shirts?!).

Then I was going to toss in how I had always dreamt of a home devoid of piles of clutter. A table that was always cleared off, except for when we were sitting down for dinner (currently, table clearing is reserved for special occasions, ie, when my brother and his family come visit).

And after that, I planned to hit you with: BUT NEITHER OF THOSE ARE CURRENTLY OBTAINABLE GOALS FOR ME!

I know, I know. Law of attraction/manifestation states you bring in what you believe. THAT IS A WHOLE OTHER POST.

I wanted the things I didn’t have. But let’s be honest- I love to eat and don’t exercise nearly enough. Also, I decided to go to school for Anthropology (oh, hindsight!).

…so what I’m saying is I am where I am because of my choices. As we all are.

But I had a moment tonight. I live for a good moment.

My father, the welder, put together this metal pipe for me so I can hang plants in my room (yay!!!). However, as he was installing it, it turned into a shit show- naturally, I was texting my brother the play by plays because I didn’t feel it was fair for him to miss out on this.

I swear, my parents are so much more entertaining as we’ve all gotten older.

Dad finally gets the pipe up, after losing a screw somewhere in my room (I’m pretty sure I’m up to date on all my shots for when I step on it). And losing a drill bit from his pocket. And now there are two extra holes in my wall that logically shouldn’t even be there. Oh, there were also black smudges on the wall where the pipe rubbed up against it (thankfully, those came off with a good scrubbing).

Basically it went how I figured it would. BECAUSE WE CANNOT HAVE NICE THINGS!

...that’s when my light bulb went off.

Our house isn’t the nicest or cleanest by any means. Like I have VERYYYYYY few people come over. You try getting a professional, good ol’ boy bachelor to organize his house. To go through and purge his things once a year. TO STOP TAKING ALL THE FREE, SOMETIMES JANKY SHIT PEOPLE GIVE HIM.


But you know what? Our house is safe. Since Logan and I moved back here in 2014, we have never gone hungry. We haven’t wanted for anything. We have a huge backyard. I’ve gotten to plant flowers…and Dad has allowed me to take over the window sills in the house for my semi-spoiled houseplants.

Though my room is far from earning a feature on Apartment Therapy or some other swanky design site, it’s cozy. This is where I feel at peace- it’s my oasis from the world. And when I look around, I’m surrounded by the people I love. As I’ve mentioned somewhere before, most of what hangs on the walls/sitting on my dresser are things made for/given to me by my friends and family. And of course, there are pictures of friends and family.

To me, that’s a life well lived- to have a home that reflects love. And living authentically (aka sink full of dishes, laundry piles, Dad falling asleep on his almost 30 year old couch).

As my blog states: Life made other plans. And I’m happy it has. Slowly, I’m letting go of all this nonsense regarding perfection. I want to keep focusing on what I do have- and remembering it’s enough.

Because it is. It isn’t the house- it’s the people that make it a home.

Even if it’s cluttered. And dusty. And there’s trash sitting on the counter two feet from an empty trash can. And there’s a strange smell coming from the garbage disposal.

I hate to think what could be in there- THE OPTIONS ARE LIMITLESS!

More posts to come.

Published by amberalice

I’m not sure how to summarize myself properly (I struggle with simply being human). But let’s give it a try! Spiritual witchy hippie who dreams of three day weekends and human rights for all. Lunch lady to the neighborhood birbs (white breasted nut hatches are the best!). Adore my jumping spiders. Oh, there are also 50 or so plants we share our home with. And some rogue lady bugs. It’s always interesting to see where they show up. Like on toilet paper. This is where I add a heavy dash of queer, neurodivergency, and vegetarianism. Am big on hugs- I give them most generously.

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