We spent last weekend cleaning out our junk room.
Actually it is Junk Room #2. It's the worse of the two.
It's the kind of junk room that you literally open the door, throw whatever you have in your hand that you don't have any place for in the rest of your house inside, and close the door really quickly so you don't have to look at the mess for too long.
It's the room in which we ran out of paint in the midst of the paint job three years ago and never finished.
Junk Room #2 is slowing becoming an office. Slowly.
That's because Junk Room #1 is slowly (even more slowly...like maybe even just in thought so far) becoming a bedroom.
Junk Room #1 is also affectionately known as Patrick's office. If you have ever been to our house, you might also know this room as "The Noah's Ark Room" because it was once a nursery to the previous owners. There are big, weird animals painted on the walls. I think they will seriously creep out a teenage boy. I mean seriously they creep me out just a tad.
We have also decided that this may be the kick in the pants we needed to put in that second full bathroom in the basement that we have been talking about for four years. Which means moving the laundry room out of that space, which means maybe moving a wall to create a laundry space somewhere else.
And then my head starts to spin.
And I start to think that maybe we really have gone and lost our minds.
We spent a date night tonight having dinner at Chik-Fil-A and walking around Lowe's looking at new interior doors and bathroom sinks. I reminded Patrick that our soon-to-be foster son may be at the Homecoming dance with a girl this very moment and that all situations that fall under that category will henceforth be his area to patrol once this boy is living in our house. I just don't know if I can handle those conversations. This is all becoming a little more real.
It becomes a little more real when this kid, who last year I barely knew, comes in each morning and sits by my desk and tells me about his day. Or checks in with me before heading off to football practice in the afternoon. Or looks back at us from the sidelines to see if we're there on Friday night.
And so we do the only thing that we know to do, which is to begin to ready our house and rearrange a few rooms.
But really, it is only metaphorical for the rearranging that is happening and is going to happen in our lives--happening in our minds and hearts already.