by Victoria M. Johnson
I’m just like any other high-maintenance middle-class American woman: I juggle my family life, with my professional life, and my secret writing life. Okay maybe not every diva dreams of being a bestselling author or an award winning filmmaker, but certainly every diva aspires to hosting enviable cocktail parties and champagne brunches.
A crucial element to this scenario is living in a house made for entertaining. You know sprawling yard, swimming pool, and an open floor plan interior. I have such a house. And I have put it to good use entertaining friends and family. My motto: no occasion is too small to celebrate. That is, until my practical husband burst my bubble and told me we had to downsize.
“You mean from a two-story to a one-story?” I asked. Or perhaps he meant from a three-bedroom to a two-bedroom.
“More.” he said.
How do you downsize more? Surely he wasn’t thinking about a one-bedroom. I felt a bead of sweat form on my brow.