Don't get me wrong

I love being married, I even love it more after having the Pickle join our house. But.... I feel like my creativity is being severely limited. When I got my first real job I decided that it was a waste of money to continue renting. D and I were dating, but not yet engaged, when I bought the house that we currently are living in. It was great. I moved from a 1 bedroom apartment to a three bedroom house with a wet basement. Some how everything I owned expanded or doubled. Some how I pretty much filled the house. Then we got married. Poor D. When he asked where his stuff was going I usually responded by saying the dumpster outside his apartment. I know this wasn't fair. So I sucked in my breath and tried to curb my pack rat ways. D likes to tease that I am a child of the depression because I have a hard time throwing anything out. Left to my own devises I would probably lay trapped for weeks under a pile of old catalogs before anyone knew I was missing. This all leads to me being a bit deceptive when I craft. I wait for stolen moments when I am alone and dive head first in usually without the proper tools or planning, just to get it started. D was gone for 4 days this past week, two of which were weekend days. I only started 1 project. I felt that I showed great restraint. D didn't really see it that way. It was a small project, wooden blocks for the pickle (It is impossible to find those old fashioned plain old wooden blocks.) Now I just need to get a drum sander for the drill press. Had the Pickle helped me out a little bit on Sunday and taken a nap when he was supposed to I think I could have had this project 75% completed. D was thoroughly annoyed at the start of yet another project and the fact that during his 4 day absence from the house the pile of catalogs that he is not allowed to throw away, might have grown a bit. I have plans for them! .... I'm going to cut out pictures to glue to the blocks! And I'm going to make some sort of a collage one day and need the pictures for color hues. Long of the short... I sometimes dream of the days when the house was mine and there was no one looking over my shoulder wondering when I was going to finish, or where I thought I was going to put it.

D flies out tomorrow to go back to Alabama. I'm not sure what he is dreading more. Leaving the Pickle again or leaving me to my own devises for 4 more days!