Nesting

My name is Heather, and I am a sporadic nester.

This is closely linked to my penchant for never unpacking everything. These unfortunate habits are likely rooted in my childhood and the multiple addresses I associate with "home."

When my roommates and I moved a few months ago, it took me a minimum of one week to put any nails in the wall. Nails bring with them a sense of permanence - once I hang that picture up, it's not coming down until I pack it up.

It's been 2 months since I put two nails in the wall. Tonight I added 3 more.

I'm not sure why it feels so significant. I do know that tonight, my house just became a little more of a home.

Baby steps, Heather. Baby steps.

The Consequences of the Profession Which I Chose

The following conversation took place between myself and the grandma of the boy I nanny:

G: "Were there a lot of women at the conference?"
H: "Well, I thought there were a lot of women there, but then I saw how many women were at the conference next door. That was A LOT of women."
G: "How are you ever supposed to meet men?"

Is it just me, or are all grandmas the same?