Some days my adult life doesn’t look like the one I imagined. For one, my house doesn’t look anything like I thought it would. I used to imagine built-in bookshelves, white trim, a comfy chair with colorful throw pillows. I used to think I’d have a kitchen large enough to entertain friends who sat around an island, laughing and sipping margaritas while I sauteed and chopped and assembled homemade goodness. Instead, my adult life often looks like this.