Why, may you ask, was I looking for a dining room table? Well, because…I’m nesting.
I think everyone tends to turn to pimping her home when it gets colder…but it’s barely getting colder here. Truthfully, I think it’s because I’m getting older.
While I don’t consider 25 old at all, it’s an age that I always considered “adult.” And right around 24 and a half, I started to feel like one. While I’ve always liked homey things — who doesn’t like browsing Pottery Barn and dreaming about her future, which always includes an amazing kitchen island and a lot of monograms? — in the past few months, it’s become way more…pressing. I imagine this is how women feel when they suddenly want kids more than anything? I have never felt like I wanted my own space with such urgency.
Like, I actually get sad when I walk through Hob Lob. I want to take home a set of plate chargers like [Angelina/Madonna/Sandra] wanted to take home her black baby.
It’s not homesickness, because even when I was at home, it wasn’t my home — it was my grandma’s house. Now I live in a beautiful townhouse, and while it’s seriously just gorgeous and totally a scene fit for the Ikea showroom…it’s still not mine.
I want to choose my own dining room table and dishes and pictures to hang on the walls and I really want a dog.
I’m just nesting.
Given this heightened emotional state, I probably should not have gone shopping this weekend, but I needed some supplies for a fall baking project I’m planning to take on. So I headed out looking for cake decorating tools and some fall leaf cookie cutters.
This simple trip turned into what is commonly referred to as a “bender.” I mean, all the good stuff at Hob Lob was 50 percent off! I had to get two of these fabulous owl bowls…
I mean, $5 each and totally like something out of Anthro!? And then I couldn’t resist the most perfect picture frame for a Halloween picture…
And given all our talk about things that smell good on Friday, I then drove straight to Bath & Body Works for some new candles.
While shopping, I was bombarded with Christmas marketing. And I don’t generally care that all the Christmas stuff is out already, because that means the fall stuff is on sale. I’ve needed a pie pan for a while and I was able to get one for $3 just because it’s harvest-colored. And since I’m not baking a pie this week/am running out of kitchen space, I’m just using it as a place to put my jewelry until I’m ready to bake.
I also have wanted cute little spreaders for ages, so I got these guys for $2.
Oh, but you know what I didn’t get? Fall leaf motherfucking cookie cutters. See, that is the downside to all the Christmas stuff being out early. It’s great because when you are lucky enough to find the seasonal item you’re looking for, it’s probably going to be on sale…but it also means that there is a good chance it’s been cleared out to make room for snowman cookie cutters.
Which is such bullshit.
My mom is now sending me my cookie cutters from Michigan so my baking project is on hold until they arrive. Meanwhile, I’m just keeping the fall spirit alive by spreading brie on crackers with my new spreaders. It’s the best I can do — it’s going to be 80 degrees this week.
Anyway, I don’t often feel like I’m living for the future; in the past few months, I’ve gotten a lot better about being totally happy in the present and not waiting for thing to happen before I feel like I’ll be happy. But honestly, sometimes my intense, burning desire for my own place makes that really hard. I feel like Tina Fey at the beginning of “Baby Mama,” but I’m daydreaming about couches instead of children. Eric has been nice enough to humor me and my discussions about where we’ll put our imaginary Christmas tree and what sort of color scheme we should have in our imaginary bathroom. DIK.
Is this just what happens when you turn 25? Has anyone else experienced a sudden, overwhelming urge to nest?
Also, what did you do with your extra hour this weekend? Eric was out of town this weekend and came home last night, so we used the extra hour to get cozy in bed and argue about what kind of imaginary dog we’re getting. Please tell me I’m not the only one.