I rolled over in bed this morning and looked around our room and thought, "we've lived here 9 years and our bedroom is still white. There's something wrong here."
I told that to someone else today, and she said, "did you have small children while living in this house?"
I blinked a couple of times. "Oh," I said. And she nodded.
OK. So. Small children. White walls. Things could be worse.
I'm both nervous about finding a new place to live and excited. There will be new walls to consider, windows with different views. Rooms where furniture has to live in new configurations. A place with different light, maybe more morning light and less afternoon light, or a north-south orientation instead of an east-west orientation. The big reason I dislike apartments is that most of them have windows on one side of the building, and there's no real shift of light across the rooms during the day. It makes me feel kind of claustrophobic.
Next week I get to spend a day with a rental agent touring available homes in both Naperville and Wheaton. There aren't many. A scant handful at best, and half of those are edging over the top of our comfort level for rent.
But I'm feeling hopeful now, because whatever else may be true, the next home will not be the home of small kids and sleepless parents. It'll be the home of school-age kids and sleepless parents!
One of my selfish hopes is that I'll have a few months off to get us settled, learn our new town, and get the house arranged -- maybe paint a couple of accent walls, figure out a slipcover for the beloved ratty sofa, etc. I'm not sure if things will work out that way, but we're trying to arrange it so that we can choose that route.
If white walls are the worst-case scenario, though, I can obviously live with it.