That last post was more of a downer than I meant it to be, although I do not think it was a misrepresentation of my current state of mind. I’ve been listening to some serious chick lit books on tape at work while number crunching, chick lit that is filled with stories of high powered career ladies who find new lives and happiness in tiny houses in the country. It’s given me this overwhelming urge to flee for serious acreage, towns with Main Streets, and work that is creative. This has not been helped by a quick search of “Woodinville” and “acres” on Craigslist, especially since it revealed a 1930s log cabin that sits on 1.7-something acres, has beautiful modern finishes on the inside, and is LESS THAN 300K. Well, barely. But that’s unheard of these days.
I’m sure this too shall pass, or at least shall go on hiatus once I complete an anxiety inducing project at work, start enjoying lovely, late, wine-filled winter evenings in Bellevue at one of the posh new restaurants … and *walked* home, and taken in a couple hundred more sunsets from my living room window. In the meantime, here’s to old farmhouses, crystal dooknobs and wrap around porches. Someday, my friends. Someday.