Last week I decided it was high time to take care of the kitchen floor.
I whipped out my floor wipes, got down on my hands and knees, and scrubbed that floor Cinderella style.
I got about half way across the kitchen and began to wonder why exactly I wanted to do this in the first place. I mean, the grout was kind of gross in some places, and there were some icky spots under the fridge, but why not just get the mop out?
But I persisted, and upon reaching the part of the floor that resides under Aed’s highchair I remembered why I had decided to clean the floor this way. The mop wasn’t going to cut it this time.
As I was scrubbing away at the tiles, I began to think about our house. I became so humbled as I considered how much we have been given in this house. Our landlord is so kind and easygoing. The space is perfect for allowing us to spread our wings a bit, as well as hosting any number of visitors (there are a lot of homeless friends taking up residence here this summer!). I always love being here – not something I could say about our last flat. We have a GARDEN, which has remained beautiful despite the fact we’ve only undertaken weeding it twice since we moved in.
This house feels more like our home than any of the other buildings we have lived in.
I could not have imagined a better place to introduce my baby boy to the world from.
Whenever we go, wherever we go, this house will always be special. I am so, so thankful for it.
(and maybe, just maybe, after almost a year of living here, I’ll post some pictures of it next week!)
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