The other day I was looking through old photos and it occurred to me how much has changed since the days of film. I remember when 24 exposures on a roll of film were precious, yet now I carry more than 24,000 photos with me on my phone.

I doubt it’s what Marie Kondo had in mind, but I took her advice outside. If you aren’t familiar with her, Kondo is an expert who teaches organizing by category. She has a show on Netflix and several bestselling books. One of her signature ideas is anything that doesn't spark joy should be tossed or donated.

“Nice to meet you. . .let’s get married!”

Few people would commit to a partner like that, but when it comes to buying a home, it’s another story. House hunting in this market is like an episode of The Bachelor, with a desirable single-family home taking the place of the ‘hot guy’.

‘It will be a fun way to spend an afternoon as a family.’ he said. He was referring to a 2,500-piece Coca Cola themed wintry scene and if I had given it any thought, I would have realized that a 2,500-piece puzzle cannot be completed in an afternoon. It has been years since Ken walked up to me in Zeb’s with that puzzle in hand.

I have held onto a belief about myself for a while that I’m a plant killer. It sounds awful, but I’m a kill them with kindness plant owner who has a tendency to overwater.

L.L. Bean aired a commercial a couple years ago that is still one of my favorites. It starts with a family decorating the tree and hanging their stockings by the fire before leaving cookies and milk for Santa on Christmas Eve. They wake up to find there are no presents under the tree and the decorations are gone. They search everywhere and eventually find the tree and presents outside in a perfect winter scene. This year I thought that if I moved the entire celebration outside, it could be just like every other Christmas.

My friend said I would never use it. I worried that she might be right. Visions of treadmills as glorified clothes hangers filled my mind. Since gyms closed in March, sales of home gym equipment soared. I too, started looking into a home gym space. We already had a treadmill and a weight bench, but both were relegated to the basement. What I wanted was a spin bike and a nice space to workout in.

I got an Apple watch for Mother's Day. I said I didn't want one but that's just mom speak for ‘don't spend that much money on me’. I fell in love with it and have ‘closed my rings’ every day since I got it.

“Where did you get the corn?” She asked. We were sitting out back shucking corn late on a Sunday afternoon. I paused before answering, "From Walmart." I can still see the look of disgust on her face as my words registered. "From Walmart?" She repeated my words back as though she was hoping she heard me wrong and then replied, “Oh, I only like corn from local farms."

"I want to buy my first home after walking through with a mask and gloves on for no more than my 15 minute time slot during which I can't touch anything and then compete against 30 other buyers so that I can bid way over asking, waive my home inspection and get beat out over and over before I finally come out the victor", said no one ever.

This month as I read news stories about the real estate market, I kept seeing predictions of a market crash. Reading the reports made me anxious. But, these forecasts aren't ringing true to me. Anyone can push stories that incite fear and panic. I don't know what the future holds for the real estate market, but I can tell you what I’m seeing. Instead of sharing someone else’s account of real estate during a pandemic, this month, I’m sharing my own

I spent the last few weeks painting and finishing projects around the house. After repainting my bathroom vanity, I realized the wall color no longer matched. I looked at paint samples online, chose the perfect color and then I stopped and asked myself, is going to the store to buy paint essential? The answer was no. Instead, I went to the basement and mixed my own with partial cans of leftover paint and created a color that matches perfectly.

The constant barrage of information from the media has made it almost impossible for me to focus. Like many people, I thrive on a daily routine and disruption from the routine has been difficult. Last week, I needed a break from it all. I turned off the tv and the kids and I got in the car. We picked up take-out from our favorite café. We ate a picnic lunch and took a walk and afterwards we stopped in at my in laws for a visit.

I remember stepping into the elevator leaving the hospital with our newborn daughter thinking, ‘I can’t believe they are letting us take her home by ourselves.’ The thought kept running through my head over and over.

“It’s the least offensive of any of the couches we have looked at.” Those are the words that came out of my mouth as I admitted defeat and gave in to a monstrous leather sectional with power recliners.

Congratulations, we are on record! The five words buyers and sellers wait to hear from the closing attorney that a sale is official. The recording of the deed makes it official, but when does a house become a home? Is it move in day, after the last box has been unpacked, or once family photos have been hung and a fresh coat of paint covers the walls?

Our first house was a fixer upper. It had hardwood floors underneath worn tiles and original bead board in the kitchen behind 80s paneling and avocado appliances. It “rained” in the living room when we flushed the upstairs toilet….that was a surprise we found right after we closed on the house and began to remove the drop ceiling.

There is something cathartic about painting a room. The closest I have come to a state of oneness is when I am painting. I get lost in what I am doing until the old color has disappeared and the space is transformed. Yesterday I found that calm at my sister’s new home.