Always meant to be mine.

The process could not have been more frustrating.

It started on Saturday. My Dad and I went to get a sander, went back to my house, and started to get to work. The room I wanted to work on in particular has a wood floor that’s been painted green and white in a checkerboard pattern.

Maybe the previous homeowners played chess on the floor?

Anyway, I was excited to start on this room. Except we ran into one little slight problem.

The sander didn’t even touch the paint on the floor.

And then my shop vac didn’t work. And then I went to get another shop vac and got a ticket in the process (oops).

It was not a good day.

It turns out that the sander we got worked really well for the other small bedroom in my house. We got that room ready to go, all nice and smooth, and took the sander back.

At that point, I wasn’t planning on staining. The wood was beautiful enough that I just wanted to varnish it.

There’s one little catch. I decided to have a party over the weekend.

Meaning, there can’t be two queen sized beds and box springs in my kitchen, there can’t be kitchen chairs in my bathroom, and there can’t be nightstands and dressers blocking my hallway.

Once we got another sander, the process went a little smoother.  It was still frustrating. I mean, what color do you think sawdust is from a green floor?

It’s all over my house.

Not to mention, I ripped six sheets of sandpaper with the second sander. I was angry. I was angry enough that I didn’t want to see that stupid sander again, so I hauled it out to the curb next to the truck I was using.

I thought I could lift it out of anger. Get out of my house, stupid sander! I never want to see you again!

The thing is, though, that I couldn’t lift it.

So I sat in the back of the truck, by myself, watching the cars go by. What people in the cars saw was a very sweaty woman in her pajamas covered in sawdust. Just, you know, hanging out until help came.

That was also not a good day.

But let me tell you about the day that was eventually good.

I went to a paint store to get stain the next day. I took a sample of laminate with me because I wanted to match the color (in the rest of my house, the previous homeowners put laminate on top of hardwood.).

I thought I picked out the stain color perfect. But they wouldn’t let me buy it. They told me they were going to custom mix the color for me. They said they’d call when the stain was ready.

A few hours later, they called and I went to look at the stain.

It was beautiful!

I went home and started staining.

I started in one corner of the room. After a small section was on, I stopped and looked at it. I wasn’t really impressed. But I kept on going, and when I got about a third of the room done, I stopped and looked at it.

It was beautiful. Like, I wanted to weep.

I love wood that has a slight hint of red in it. The stain they custom made for me matched what I wanted perfectly.

It’s so beautiful, I can’t believe it’s mine.

My house buying process was messy. But when I was staining and seeing the potential in my house, I kept thinking something.

This house was always meant to be mine.

Pretty, right?

Getting to work.

Look at those pretty floors!

The other bedroom. Pretty!

Same shot as above, put with stain.

Ta da!

Pretty.

Up in flames (kind of)

Last night when I went to bed, I smelled something burning.

I checked all around my house. The oven was fine and off, nothing was off in the basement, my flat iron was off and my curling iron wasn't plugged in.

What's that mysterious burning smell?

I thought someone had a fire pit going in my neighborhood, so I fell peacefully asleep and decided not to worry about it.

The smell woke me up at 3 a.m. It was right in my face, and I immediately knew what it was.

It was my fan!

I unplugged it, felt the motor, and it was very, very hot.

This is where having an anxiety disorder is not fun.

I don't have dumpster access from my backyard. I'd have to walk through a neighbor's yard to throw the fan away.

But if I were to do that at 3 a.m., I'd probably be murdered or get lost and die.

If I put the fan on my front porch, it would catch my front porch on fire and the rest of the house would probably catch on fire, too.

If I put it outside on my grass, the grass would just catch on fire, which would lead to my house catching on fire, which would lead to other houses catching and fire and that's just not cool at 3 a.m.,  you know?

I thought about putting it in my car, but that scenario eventually lead to my probably dying as well.

My solution to all of this anxiety at 3 a.m. was to just stay awake and make sure the damn thing didn't burn my house down.

On a sidenote, having a fire extinguisher in my house seemed like a really good idea this morning.

I started dozing off around 5:30 a.m. I felt the fan. It was cool and didn't smell like rotten, burning corpses anymore, so I figured it was safe.

I'm okay with my life serving as a warning to other people of exactly what not to do.

If you smell something burning by your head, don't go to sleep!

Oops.

I've had that fan for a really long time. When my 4-year-old dog was a puppy, she decided she wanted to eat electricity one morning and chewed the cord to the fan.

She was fine. My Dad fixed the fan and put two layers of hard plastic around the cord. It's the same plastic people put in fields to make sure mice and other critters don't eat cable.

So, this fan has seen better days. The plastic around the cord is bright yellow, which doesn't exactly scream, "I'm a strong, independent woman!"

The fan is going to fan heaven tonight. It has lived a good, long life.  I'll fall in love with another fan sometime this weekend.

Oh, the joys of being a homeowner.

(Also a good reminder - shut off your fans before you leave your house!)

Disappearing from relationships

On my Facebook feed, something popped up from The New York Times.

It read: "This weekend's article about people disappearing from relationships drew a strong response online."

Apparently, it's called "ghosting."

I read that story at the end of June. I still have it pulled up on my phone, and I still read the comments to boost my morale at times.

Break ups are harsh. I mean, is there ever a nice way to say 'I never want to see you or talk to you again' to someone's face?

No, there's not a nice way to do it.

But yes, you should absolutely have that conversation. To not even bother to have that conversation, and to "ghost" someone, means you're a shitty human being who's probably not ready to be in a serious relationship.

I almost wrote that in all caps, but I decided against it.

Yes, this is a topic near and dear to my heart.

I can't change the past, but I can promise to never do to someone else what was done to me.

Ghosting...I didn't even know there was a name for it.

/rant

Online comments about the original story:

I'm glad there's a term for this -- it's more accurate than "dumped." It happened to me awhile back, in a relationship of 18 months that had grown quite serious. After three weeks of silence, I decided someone ought to issue an acknowledgement, and wrote him a note (by hand, sent via USPS) saying I was hurt and confused by his behavior, but had enjoyed good times with him and wished him well. It felt right to offer a sincere closing on my end, even if his actions were rude and immature. Maintaining my own integrity weakened the sting. In a sense, I, not he, was the one closing the door.

-----

How about calling it what it is: the right to be rude.

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You know, sometimes we must put on our Big Girl/Big Boy panties
and do the right thing - behave like adults.

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The practice of ignoring those who have invested time and emotion into a relationship with us, so as to save their own emotions when that investment no longer seems worth it, is not at all a new phenomenon. Ghosting has been happening in relationships for eons and is now simply being applied across the capabilities of social media to "unfriend" the undesirable. The impetus is the same as it ever was.

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If it's someone you've been with for more than a couple of dates, it's unfair to inflict the worry. Is she dead? Is he stroke paralyzed in his apartment? Was she kidnapped? Did he lose his phone and contact list? Heck, I'd file a missing person report in some of these cases. For Sean Penn, its different. But for your average Betty from the Bronx, what should a caring person do?

-----

I, too, was a victim of ghosting. We had been dating for 4 months and he was leaving for the weekend to attend a conference. I told him to have a great weekend and then never heard from him again. I was surprised because he had always been respectful and mature. I never reached out to him because truth be told, I had planned on ending the relationship anyway. I'm guessing he just thought he'd beat me to it.

-----

Now I see I am well rid of such a spineless liar, but when it happened, I was devastated. No one deserves this kind of treatment.

-----

Lots of people are saying "ghosting" is cowardly. Funny thing, the "ghoster" doesn't care. They want their comfort above all else.

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"Ghosting" is a non-adult way of avoiding an uncomfortable conversation. With that said, two stories:

Years ago, I had two dates with a man who was lovely but not a match. As I pondered what to do, I received a note from him, telling me that while he was happy to have met me and thought I was terrific, he did not think we were not a match, and he wished me well. I remember thinking what a sweet affirming note and a class act.

Also years ago, I had three dates with a guy who was also not a match. On our second date, he bemoaned how people seemed to need to have conversations when breaking up, and why couldn't people just fade away, wasn't that the same message? Bemused, I stored that note in my head, and after the third date, when I was sure we were not a match, rather than send him a note, I gave him his wish and simply faded away. That's the only time I've ever ghosted another person, and I believe it was mutual.

At the end of the day, "ghostees" are actually lucky in that their candidates disqualify themselves as partners, as they reveal their lack of empathy, not to mention their inability to conduct adult and possibly uncomfortable conversations.

---

PEOPLE! Be human. Before you take what seems like the easy way out and just ignore a person you've been connecting well with (even if only online so far), just think about how it would feel for you if it were reversed!

If you thought things were going fine and showing promise; if you had bought tickets for the show you both agreed to see, or ingredients for the dinner you both agreed to make; or if you had showed up at the hour and place you had both agreed to meet… and then you heard NOTHING. Ever. Again.

It's just profoundly inhumane, and paints you as not just lazy, inconsiderate & immature, but really sociopathic.

This has happened to me on a couple of occasions over the years, and I still don't know if the dates who did not show up as promised, or respond in any way after, are in hospital, dead, or married to someone else! I continue to be really flabbergasted at how twisted and tortured their minds must be, to decide to treat another human being so cavalierly, so meanly, so unkindly. And yes, it IS a decision, even though you "ghosters" may be telling yourself, "I just let it slide, I didn't make any decision at all, it just happened by my not doing anything…"

It actually takes LESS psychic energy on your part to text a quick "Can't make it after all. Something came up." and perhaps later, "I'm not feeling it, I'd rather not continue. Sorry." THEN block & disconnect. Be worthy of the word Human, and of being treated as such by the next person you connect with.

It Wasn't Me.

Last Friday night, after taking the most glorious of naps, I went out to get a few groceries.

It was pretty late, around the time when a popular bar in town closes. Said bar happens to be a handful of blocks from my house.

I was hanging out in my kitchen, eating cherries late at night, when I heard a commotion outside.

My window in my kitchen needs to be replaced. It doesn't really shut, which means I can hear people outside perfectly.

A group of women were arguing. I could hear how drunk they were, and I wondered if I should call the police.

Nah, I thought. I'll just let them fight it out and enjoy every second of the delicious drama I heard.

One woman thought the other slept with her man. The other woman denied it. They went at it for a long time. The first woman claimed she saw it.

Question: If you're caught in the act, how do you deny it?

(In my head I was singing the lyrics to Shaggy's "It Wasn't Me.")

This wonderful drama played out for about 15 minutes, until the drunkards went home and left me in peace. Deep down, I was just happy someone else's life is more dramatic than mine.

So now you have a scoop on who's sleeping with whom in my neighborhood.

FYI - I didn't really want to know, either.

Conversations

Conversations I've had recently:

Mom on very, very good looking country singer: Is he married? I think I see a ring on his finger.
Me: It'd be a damn shame if he's not.

Me: What do you think of the whole Sam Brownback brother thing?
Boss: I don't think you can slight someone because they have a crazy-ass relative. What about you?
Me: There's a dumbass in every family.
Boss: They were unfortunate enough to get two. Hi-yooo!

Barfs pink hearts

A sentence I wrote today: "She barfs pink hearts when she talks about him."

That reminds me of a story.

I went to a party supply store last year on Feb. 13. I wanted to get stuff for my nieces, who came home that day.

Going to that store was a mistake. You see, there's this little holiday called Valentine's Day. 

The store was so covered in roses and chocolate, it looked like love threw up everywhere.

And that's my awesome story of the day.

Life doesn't work out.

This is by far my favorite thing I've ever written.

I think about these words in bad times. And good times. And sucky times. And a lot of other times, too.

It really is true. 

Favorite parts: The most important piece of advice I can give you is this: Be confident. Aggressively seek what you want in life, and don’t ever settle until you get it.

And: You might not know that sometimes life doesn’t work out. Sometimes you’ll break, and it’s okay if you do. Before that happens, surround yourself with people who don’t mind putting the pieces back together for you.

Sometimes you can’t do it yourself.

----

By Monica Springer
Guest writer

I had my life planned out seven years ago.

I was finishing up at a community college and I was planning to transfer to a state university. I was set.

Then, life threw me a wonderful curveball. Once I made a campus visit to Southwestern and saw that beautiful building on top of the hill, that was it.

I knew I had to change my plans and go to school in Winfield.

If you’re a Southwestern student reading this, I need to talk to you. I have some advice that, if given to me a few years ago, could have saved me a few dollars, some sleepless nights and some heartache.

Here’s my advice to you.

You’re going to spend the rest of your life dodging those curveballs. It doesn’t matter what you have planned out, life will take you in another direction.

Let it.

I think you need to know that in the end, it’s all worth it. One day, a few years from now, you’ll look back and realize that you went through everything you did for a reason. If you try really hard and put your degree to good use, one day you’ll have a wonderful life.

You’ll have Southwestern to thank for that wonderful life that you love.

Tonight at sunset, sit on top of the 77 and watch the sun in all its glory. You’ll miss that and wish you did it more often when you move away from Winfield.

I also have some job advice for you. Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want. And don’t be afraid to leave a situation if you don’t like it. The best decisions I’ve ever made in my professional life have been leaving situations I’ve been unhappy with.

If you’re brave enough to leave, life will greet you with a wonderful new hello.

You have a wonderful gift. You get to decide how your life will go. You get to decide who to spend the rest of your life with, what city to live in, and what career you want to have.

Those are all big decisions to make. Time your time.

It’s been five years since my class finished college. We’ve gotten married, had children, advanced in our careers and have had some wonderful things happen in our lives.

Achieving all of those things is not easy.

It’s my hope that every single one of my classmates knows this, and I want to pass it onto you.

You might not know that sometimes life doesn’t work out. Sometimes you’ll break, and it’s okay if you do. Before that happens, surround yourself with people who don’t mind putting the pieces back together for you.

Sometimes you can’t do it yourself.

And the next time you’re walking around the Southwestern campus, take a look around. You have an amazing network of people who want to help you achieve your goals. Talk to professors after class. Ask about internships, jobs and part-time jobs. Ask students, too.

Jobs fizzle out, cities can change and friendships you make can fade. Don’t let go of your friends from home or your friends from college – they’ll be there when jobs and cities change.

And that student sitting next to you in class? That person could someday be your boss. Be nice to other students, and don’t be afraid to network with them if you’re looking for a job.

Trust me.

The most important piece of advice I can give you is this: Be confident. Aggressively seek what you want in life, and don’t ever settle until you get it.

You deserve it.

Monica Springer

Southwestern College, class of 2008

Perfect.

Picture this.

There's a 1-year-old sitting on my front porch, wearing an outfit I bought for her, sans pants. Because, you know, who wants to wear pants in August in Kansas?

She's holding a pink plastic fork, picking my flowers, and dancing even though there's no music playing.

She likes the song "Barbara Ann" by the Beach Boys.

This morning, we danced to "Barbara Ann," we sat on the front porch with no pants on with pink silverware (even though we weren't eating), and we were just chilling out.

I wanted a house for these kind of memories. No matter how old she gets, I'm always going to remember her on my front porch, her hair a mess of curls, wearing a diaper, and picking my flowers.

It was perfect.

(For the record, I had pants on.)