being jo

It’s around this time I begin to consider what I’d give up for a sweet inviting place to call mine on a patch of greenery, by the lake. Though I’m sure it could spiral into much more, I imagine needing several buckets of white paint, a great flea market, and a little help from my friends, to realize the dream. I picture living quaintly, built in bunks fit for adults, maximizing the small space- baskets of fresh fruit, killer playlists, and fresh white linens… and a dock… and my peeps.