Is it just me?

Sometimes I wonder about my sanity. I know my husband wonders about it. He sees the effects of my hamster wheel-ing and I'm pretty sure it frustrates him to no end!

I have this thing I do so often it almost appears a scheduled activity. I move furniture. Around. A LOT. There. I've said it. It almost feels like the first step in a program meant to help me get over my problem, but I'm not sure anything like that actually exists.

I've done this for years, even waaaay back when I lived at home as a teenager with my folks. I moved their stuff around too. The living and dining rooms were quite the playground for me. My parents didn't really seem to mind as long as things were neat and kept out of the walkways.

And so it began.

Lately, however, this obsession has kicked into overdrive. I think what sent me over the edge was the extra, four-seater table that came to live here after our youngest and her husband moved into their new house. Their galley kitchen could no longer fit Tom's parents' antique drop-leaf, so it reverted back to us.

Thing is... we live in a small-ish house, not quite 900 square feet, and I already have a dining table (two actually) that I picked specifically for their function and flexibility. OK, OK... they're IKEA gateleg tables, NOT antiques, but I can put them together to fit 10 (almost our entire family) for dinner and then fold them up against the wall into less than a12-inch depth when the dining room needs to morph into an extra bedroom for overnight guests.

I thought it was a brilliant solution. My shining moment!

But..., and here's the kicker... then there were three! One valued for sentiment, the others for practicality.

Tom loves his parents' table. I get that, and I love Tom, so what's a girl to do but start playing Tetris once again to see how it might be possible to keep -and use- them all.

Tom and I love this little casita as well. It really is so very practical for us at this stage of life. It affords us more time to visit our kids and grandkids out of town because there's a lot less upkeep than our previous home. The two of us are not squeezed for space in the least 350 or so days out of the year. We only feel a little crunch when we host the entire family for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

My one stipulation about downsizing was that it wouldn't interfere with, or deter anyone from coming here to visit. So far we've managed pretty well, but it's because we have very accommodating kids who stay flexible, and who appreciate the time we get to spend together even if we do look a little like we're trying to compete in how many clowns can cram into a Volkswagen!

We always told them, "Think of it like camping." I mean, hey... if you could glamp in a 900 sq.ft. tent, complete with kitchen set-up and indoor plumbing, you'd think it was the Ritz! Even still, I try my best to give people a little privacy and space, so I'm always evaluating to see what could be done differently to make this sweet place function at its best for all of us.

Does that make me crazy?

... and if it does...

It isn't just me, is it?

It isn't just me who feels the desire for those who enter here to be as comfortable and to feel as welcome and as wanted as possible, is it? Surely we all feel that way. It isn't the wealth of material things that makes a difference... or even the amount of extra floor or closet space. It's the warmth, and that can be expressed even in the most humble settings.

Hence my mission to shuffle the furniture yet again... to make room for what really matters...

the people we love, and there will always be room enough for that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get all this stuff put back...

before Tom gets home ;)!