Maple, apple, and cinnamon notes flood the air and create an ambiance of warmth in Room 405. Peering around the corner, you’ll notice ghoulish glows from beneath the SmartBoard ledge, crisp leaves littering the window sill scattered between supplies, and spooky skulls and gravestones lining the whiteboard in the back of the classroom, adding to the eclectic mixture of fall and Halloween. In short, it looks like a Michael’s Craft Store threw up in my room, and maybe I got a tad bit over-excited for my favorite time of year.

I decided when the school year began that this was my time to settle in. This was my time to stake my claim and create an environment I enjoy entering each day at the ripe hour of 6:15. I needed to establish an aura that would calm the quelling anxieties and nerves built up over the course of now over two months, which explains my essential oil diffuser and the students who marvel at its vapor amidst lessons on Irving and Dahl.

I love my new job. The students are great and make coming to school each morning a joy. However, I still struggle - as I imagine most educators do - with the uncertainties of this year and the tug-of-war inside us as we remain openly available for families and as creative and interactive as possible in our lesson plans. I need a reprieve within the confines of Room 405 to keep me sane throughout the day. Therefore, I created a little zen corner with a bamboo plant, my diffuser, and a Keurig stocked with my favorite fall blends for when I need a midday pick me up. I even enlisted the services of Mr. Know-it-All, seeing as he has a knack for meme making. He compiled pictures of our goofball of a dog, Fred, and now my whiteboards are crawling with memes showcasing some of my favorite phrases from students thus far.

I’m happy, and I think that is the most important takeaway from this much needed excerpt. My life is crazier than it ever has been before: wedding planning, endless hours of lesson planning and grading, a commute of over an hour to and from work, attempting to maintain a semblance of a personal life, and house hunting. But, I’m happy. I’m excited for the future, and I thoroughly enjoy the gifts placed before me each day. While at times these “gifts” seem more like insane obstacles from the universe to destroy my routine and cause a panic attack, they are ultimately moments of laughter I can then relay to the world.

One moment in particular rings reminiscent of a bad date, like someone you never want to see again because his pictures on the dating app you were ashamed to use were misleading to maximum capacity (a 10 online and a 4 in person). This moment, speaking of house hunting, is what I can only imagine as the absolute worst showing in the history of showings. Mr. Know-it-All and I were excited to view a house that also had a church on the lot only because the photos made it appear to be a perfect fixer upper with endless amounts of space. It is important to know that we went into this tour of the house knowing that it needed work. We were not prepared for the unique persona who met us at the door.

Upon arrival, we noticed the realtor sitting in between the two building structures. She greeted us, and offhandedly made a comment about the barking dog typically being kenneled when she shows the house. Once we entered, I could already tell that this was not my forever home in its current state. But, as we moved through the kitchen, which was significantly smaller than it’s misleading photos, I decided to give it the benefit of the doubt.

And then we walked into the dining room. It looked like it belonged in a rectory, like a priest sat at the lightly stained, blond breakfast nook nestled atop plush blue carpet with a pair of slippers perched at the helm. Not my style, but maybe it could be renovated.

Oh, my goodness, you scared me! yelled the realtor. I didn’t know you were going to be here. Did we wake you?

I’m sorry. What? There is a human here while we are traipsing through their house? Of course there was. Clad in plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt that looked as if it had been used to clean the floors, the owner of this eye sore was sitting on the raggedy couch looking at us with an expression of utter confusion. I guess I would be confused too if random strangers and a realtor entered my home during my even snooze.

Needless to say, we obviously did not make money moves on this house. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what deterred me most … the stairs fit for a toddler, the overwhelming smell of cat pee, or the bathroom that had enough space for you to go to the restroom, wash your feet, and clean your hands all at the same time. However, I think what sealed the deal for “no, thank you, we’ll keep looking” was the realtor herself telling us not to buy the house. After an almost unfortunate run-in with a long, black snake, she repeatedly told us to move on. While I can appreciate this warning - although, with the looks Mr. Know-it-All and I shared for the 30-minute duration of the showing, I think we came to that assumption all on our own - I’m not entirely sure she did her due diligence.

Alas, the house hunting game is just that - a “what if” scenario that causes knee-jerk reactions or painful patience as you watch houses plucked from the market each and every day. In our second attempt at a potential forever home, we fell in love with the mix of Victorian architecture and updated interior, and this gentle wooing of the structure led us to make a rash offer on a house we knew we could not afford, only after making an offer and seeing what the taxes would be a year. Therefore, tails between our legs, we reneged our offer and took a hiatus from making rash decisions. We do have a year before anything really has to be finalized.

And yet, this is still such an exciting time. Scheduling items for our wedding next year has my excitement bubbling to the surface, picturing every facet of the day in my mind. Spending time with Mr. Know-it-Al and Fred make up for the weekly stresses, even when Penn State loses in a game with one of the worst calls I’ve ever witnessed. Granted, I’m a newly minted fan, but I’ve quickly become engrossed in this culture. I know the boys by name; I can see a bad play coming, with help of Mr. Know-it-All’s spot on analyses; and I get even more amped for each kickoff.

In short, I am the happiest I’ve ever been. My goal is to grant myself grace as the year picks up momentum. It really is like starting all over, even though this is my year 2. I’m making my way through the muddled mess one day at a time, with an espresso in hand, heels on my feet to give me a semblance of importance, and the notion in my mind that once the day ends, I get to go home to the people I love. Until next time ...