When we had suspicions that we were to downsize, we didn’t exactly expect to move to a home 1/3 the size of ours. Then Grandmom decided she wanted to sell the family home-place and friends asked if they could rent our big house. It all fell so beautifully into place that we knew the right thing was to buy from Grandma, move to the Little House, and renovate the slightly bigger Rock House.
We’ve lived here before – all wood paneling, 30 year-old carpet, stained linoleum, birds flying from the attic into the one and only clothes closet. Often, we walked in our sock-feet up to Grandma’s for icecream or a tuna sandwich. Often, Grandpa would walk in unannounced, and we would pretend to be taking naps.
Once I sat at my desk and winged termites poured in like angels on Armageddon. Once I ran down the road here in a pair of poodle flannels after one of the horses. Once I saw a badger here the size of a mutant cow. There has always been a hawk here, and she likes to cry.
This is the Love Shack from our college days, and we made two babies here before we were so crammed up that we spilled full-girth into another house across town. It was twice as big. We made another baby there and thought we would try an even bigger house on for size, and after a year of granite and actual non-kin neighbors (dirt roads have kept me pretty neighborless), we found ourselves in an amazing house that wasn’t home.
There is something beautiful about scratch. It feels like the prettiest thing we’ve ever done to spiff up the shack and sleep in the laundry room. Making do is choosing to be simple, doing with what you’ve got –
a bed and a microwave in the laundry room,
a pair of gloves for the dishes,
a favorite bookshelf with a curtain in it for the pantry and appliance storage.
Are you making do? Click on over to Ann’s place.