The Dollhouse

I was going to use the following as my Sleeping with Bread Monday post, but seeing as this is no longer Monday it will just have to serve as my whining on Wednesday post. Not that it will be ALL whining mind you ... but mostly so.

I live in a dollhouse. This could almost be a picture of my living room ... but minus the plastic people. Oh, and my rugs aren't bunched up like those in the picture. And my color scheme is better. There are also no children. OK, so this really doesn't look anything like my living room.

My home is a very tiny place though and I have no end of aggravation trying to figure out where to put things. I live on a "something in something out" basis. In this age of stuff-more stuff-and where is all this stuff coming from, this is not a bad policy no matter what size your home. When I'm feeling particularly space deprived, I try to think of this as a spiritual exercise. Something to build character. Learning to live contentedly with the space I have. This usually lasts for a good 15 minutes or so before I revert to whining.

So as not to be accused of being a total whiner, I will now say something positive. Dollhouses, by their nature, are cute. Very cute. My home definitely has the cute factor. Wood floors, built in bookcase, breakfast nook. I also have a yard with a garden area that could be cute if I would but tend to it. And I happen to think that my husband, who lives in the cute dollhouse with me, is cute. So you see, what I lack in space is more than compensated for in an abundance of cuteness.

I'll probably always have my whiny moments when it comes to space, but I'll take a loving husband and a cute dollhouse of a home over space any day.