Working from home is a gift—one I do not take lightly. But if there’s one unexpected thing this arrangement has taught me, it’s that spending this much time in my house has turned me into its toughest critic.

It starts innocently enough. A slow sip of morning coffee in the living room turns into an appraisal of my space. Should I paint the walls a different color? A quick break in the afternoon sun transforms into an inventory of the backyard—maybe we need more flowers, better patio furniture, a new walkway? By the time evening rolls around, I’ve mentally redesigned half the house and have probably convinced myself we need a full renovation.

The funny thing is, no one else sees these so-called flaws. My guests don’t notice that one stubborn scuff on the baseboard or the slight unevenness of a picture frame. My family certainly isn’t losing sleep over the fact that the living room rug is two inches too small for the space. But me? I stare at it all day, picking it apart, believing that somehow, if I just tweak this or change that, the house will be… what? Perfect?

Ah, there it is. Perfection. That unattainable, ever-elusive mirage that can take the joy right out of a good thing. Homes, much like people, are works in progress. They take time, patience, and a little grace. And when I step back from my overcritical lens, I realize that what I actually have is already so beautiful.

This home shelters me from fluorescent lights and office cubicles. It cradles me with its cozy nooks, sunlit corners, and familiar creaks in the floors. It’s where meals are made, laughter is shared, and where the small, seemingly unremarkable moments of life happen—the moments that make a house feel like home.

So I remind myself: Appreciate the charm, not just the checklist. Yes, I can dream up changes and improvements (because let’s be honest, a little dreaming never hurt anyone), but I don’t have to let those things steal the joy of what already exists. There is beauty in the process, in the history, in the way a home evolves with us over time.

So here’s to loving our homes not just for what they could be, but for what they already are—lived-in, loved, and perfectly imperfect.

Love you all,

Lauren