Clueless

I'm stumped. I've stared at this empty page, off and on, for three hours - even started a half-dozen posts, only to wipe them clean before I was more than a paragraph into it. Why? I don't know for sure, but I think it might be ... because I'm happy.

I have no reason to be happier today than I've been before. Actually, since the Big Lug and I had The Talk last night (you know, the one in which I warn him his entire life is about to change because I'm ripping the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen to shreds in the next few months), and it didn't go as well as I'd hoped (he really is kind of locked into his familiar-is-better-even-when-it's-crappy thing), I have every reason to be unhappy instead. But I'm not. I love the man to distraction, and his lack of enthusiasm doesn't hinder me at all, except to make the changes a bit slower than I normally would - and maybe leave a bit more clutter on my plan to help him make the transition. This makes my house plans a bit trickier, a bit smaller, even a bit tamer, but still a home because it will be for both of us instead of just for me.

Happy-making? Not really. Yet that deep core of contentment lingers. And it's distracting.

Is that weird?