A Down Day

It's raining.

Again.

Sorry, Texas, but I'm really sick of the rain.

The dog needs some exercise, but won't go out in the rain. Don't blame her.

I've been sick since Sunday. I hate being sick. My week has been wasted with tissues and cold medicine. I'd like to be well soon.

I don't know if I like the farm. (Remember, it's raining and I'm sick; I might like it tomorrow.) Certainly the farm doesn't feel like home. It somehow feels like a vacation, but I still need to cook, clean, school, and do all the other routine tasks that make a house a home, but I am struggling.

I've spent some time thinking about why I'm on-the-fence about the farm. I enjoy the quietness and it is definitely picturesque, but the house isn't our home.

I'm still rearranging furniture, which I hate to do.

Nothing has my stamp of creativity on it. It's beige walls with our stuff inside. Blech.

I need to "nest," but don't really want to dig into any process. It's as if I don't want the farm to become our home.

Hmmm.
I hope that's just sickness talking.