A Yarn Room to Call My Own

My sweetie and I have been house hunting for a while.  Off and on for a few years.  He has certain things in mind, which is not always in line with our budget.  It doesn't help that the market for the type of place we are looking for is very hot right now.  VERY hot.  Anything in the county, with some acreage, for under $200K, goes on the market, a crowd of impatient buyers descend like a pack of sharks on the trail of blood.  We have gone as high as $10K above asking price, only to be outbid.

Finally, we were the early bird. We swooped in and made an offer before anyone else noticed it was on the market.  After all those times of disappointment and frustration, our dreams were finally coming true.

The reality struck.  Packing.  Moving.  Oh, my!  We haven't moved since we got married, twelve years ago.  And that was just me into his bachelor house.  We have had two children since then, and amassed a lot more stuff.  I know it will all be worth it, but there will be a lot of work in the next few weeks.

Sweetie is having dreams of the large barn.  (Larger than the house, actually, which I don't think is really fair.)  I am dreaming about the fourth bedroom, on the first floor.  Right now, it is cramped, with a miniscule closet.  We have future plans to add on the side of the house, to make it a master suite, with bathroom and walk in closet.  For now, I am dreaming of an office/craft room.  A place for my yarn and sewing machine.  For twelve years I have had these things in my mother's basement.  And when I bring work home, I use the kitchen table, glaring at anyone who gets chocolate milk too close to my laptop.  I may have to elbow the kids, who keep talking about a toy room, but I am still bigger than them, and I help pay the mortgage, so I like my odds.   As long as I can resist their pleas.

Now, I just have to figure out how to camouflage my stash for the move.  Really, my sweetie doesn't need to know how much yarn I really own.

Today, it is all about the dreams.