Sometimes I park my home construction cart right smack in front of my horse. It started about 20 years ago. My brother and I decided that we needed a treehouse. Our dad was at work, and it would be another million hours before he’d be home to help us. That is, of course, our assumption that after a long, hard day at the office, all our dad would want to do is take off his tie and climb into a pine tree to help us build our fort, which we figured he could wrap up by nightfall.

We waited for a few minutes and ultimately decided: we couldn’t wait a million hours for our dad to come home.

We did what any logical kids would do; we took measures into our own hands. We drug a few sheets of plywood out of the garage and laid them under the tree. We found some 2x4s and the little saw set my brother got for Christmas. I had my red hammer. Our dad kept nails in baby food jars; we grabbed the jars with the longest nails we could find. Those would hold better.

My brother and I talked about our plans, and I ran into the house. I came back and dumped my art supplies in the grass. Then I started painting a fake picture frame and family portrait onto the plywood.

“What are you doing?” my brother asked.

“I’m decorating the treehouse.”

“But,” he said carefully the way little brothers do when doubting their older (wiser) sisters. “We haven’t even built the treehouse yet.”

I didn’t stop my drawing. “I know.”

Horse. In. Front. Of. Cart.

Fast forward 20 years. I receive this book to review.

I sit down at the table to flip through the pages while Martin sits next to me with his digital thermometer. I talk about all the cool painting projects we could do. He points and shoots his thermometer at the walls, the floor, the table… “How can you design a house and make it so cold?!” he asks. (We’re in the tire house, wrapped up in blankets.)

I shrug. “We’ll make our house in the hangar warm.”

I flip a few more pages of my book.

“And we can use hand-painted napkins like these,” I add.

Horse. In. Front. Of. Cart.

We don’t actually have a table right now. Our old table became a makeshift desk in my old bedroom at my parents’ house.

Martin acts cool. (No pun intended!)

I flip a few more pages.

“Maybe we should stencil our bedroom walls!” I’m brimming.

You should be aware: we don’t actually have a bed yet. Our mattress dates back to my high school days. Martin just looks at me. He knows my troubles with carts and horses when we do construction.

“Let’s just start with getting the walls,” he says.

I stop looking at the book and look at his thermometer-clad self. “OH!” I boast. “We have walls!”

Now who’s mixing up the cart and horse?

Psst. Amy was super sweet and set up a Pinterest Board for everyone to post suggestions for the loft. I’d LOVE to have your input, too. Leave your Pinterest account name below, and we’ll get you in the group.

Do you ever get so excited about some details that you forget about all the steps that need to come first? What’s your hurry up and start playing project these days?