Till we pasted the house. You know the *blank* that makes the conversation turn. It was a beautiful beachie Victorian type home, gorgeous in a forgotten about kind of way. We both, said "That would make the perfect bed & breakfast". I never knew that the hubby ever wanted to own a b&b. I have to say I was surprised that there was something about him I didn't know. We started talking about breakfast we (he) would make, things we would do, if the boys where in high school what their jobs would be, just a general day dream.
All this came flooding back as I was laying in bed feeding the little guy. Making beds, cleaning rooms, putting out fresh flowers, baked goods to lay out in the tea room, all those b&b things, and I couldn't wait till the day we were doing those things.
Then a though hit me, like punched me in the face kind of hit me.
I can do that now, and I don't. I mean I take care of my home, but do I look forward to it. Um, no. Would I love to lie and say I do, yes but this isn't the place to lie.
Why is the though of serving others more appealing than serving my family?
No really, why? Do any of you have the same thoughts, and why do you think we're like that?
Cause I got nothing!
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