She was living the dream.
I was so jealous of her, y’all. She was so cool, and living the dream, like, my dream house. It was small, at least in terms of square footage, but was built on the edge of the lake/side of a deep hill, so it was, like, three stories tall with extensive decks and flower beds going on the side of the hill, so you do a lot of your living outside.
This woman was an artist and gardner, and we could see pumpkins and squash and tomatoes and huge tall sunflowers, among other annuals and perennials. So cool.
She was living the dream. Maybe that’s not my dream. Or maybe living the dream isn’t something we should aspire to?
I didn’t think my dream was this. I thought my dream was research. Brookings. But maybe not. Maybe “living the dream” is just living a good life.
What do you think? Are you living the dream? What does that look like?