A cousin, one who knows me incredibly well, referred to me as “Type A” a while ago, and at first I was both shocked at how wrong he was and offended that he would categorize me as such. I’ve never seen myself as much of a Tracy Flick type (IYKYK and are also probably the same age and have the same taste in indie films as me.)
However, since then, I’ve been noticing all the ways said cousin was so on point. (If you read the last letter about unlearning toxic habits picked up on family road trips, this may not come as a surprise to you.)
Namely, my Type A “get ‘er done” attitude comes out when something needs doing. I like to think of myself as a thinker, a reflector, a listener. But my goodness, am I also a planner, a problem solver, and a doer.
Present me with a project and I’ll have a task list and a spreadsheet whipped up in no time. Something needs organizing or categorizing and I’ll have a system on hand before you know it.
I worked at a hotel front desk throughout university and my coworkers would “save” the guest check-in key packs for when I arrived on shift after class because I had the best system and the keenest eye for detail.
When I was a prison case manager there was a feeling of deep satisfaction in my bones when I concluded my weekly appointments and entered them in the shared team spreadsheet on a Friday afternoon just before deadline.
The best part of our wedding day was obviously the love and the family and beauty etc. etc. but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look around and relish in the fruits of my months of planning—from the vintage brass picture frames to the way the candles glimmered as the sun set over the Tofino beach—and breathe a sigh of satisfaction at the perfect way the day was unfolding.
So, this is all to say that I am great to have around in a crisis, love planning trips and events, and feel there is no such thing as an insurmountable problem in our household. (Just ask my husband how I can change a recessed ceiling light bulb with a spatula in a pinch. Seriously.)
However, this also means when plans shift and change, I feel an uncomfortable twisting inside.
I had another letter all planned out to send to you today, and then everything I’d said in it became irrelevant when a few wrenches were thrown our way.
Namely, world events that made my rental kitchen update plans feel suffocatingly vapid.
And, the fact that despite my previous hopefulness about our housing situation, it looks like we are going to be moving out of our urban cottage laneway house in the coming months (if not weeks).
So, while I’m sitting with my discomfort about shifting my plans for our home and this week’s letter, I’m also springing into action planning to find our next rental house to make a home.
Spreadsheets have been made. Packing systems have been jotted down.
And, impending busy-ness aside, it strikes me that taking you along on this journey as we seek out a new place and make it our own from scratch could be both fun and a creative project I can sink my teeth into (you know how Tracy Flick loves a good challenge). So, starting with showing you my rental-search checklists and some behind the scenes of viewings, I’m going to bring you with me. Most likely here in these letters and on Instagram. I’m looking forward to it!
In the meantime, can you help me out? Let me know, what kind of rental / home decor / housing content would you like to read from me? Do you prefer the play-by-play behind the scenes chaos, or more curated roundup photos after the fact?