The Life I Want

Every year around the new year, I reread The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up manga by Marie Kondo.

There’s a mental exercise in it that I think is worth returning to.

Marie asks the woman she’s helping to imagine her ideal life in her space.

In the manga, the woman lives in a very small, very crowded apartment. She works long hours and is rarely home. Most nights she eats out or grabs fast food because cooking feels overwhelming in a kitchen that doesn’t really work for her. Her home exists in a constant state of “it’s fine for now.”

Marie Kondo asks her to picture her perfect life, not her perfect apartment.

In that vision, the woman imagines stopping at the grocery store on her way home from work. She picks up fresh, local, seasonal food and maybe a small bouquet of flowers. When she gets home, she can easily put her purse and shoes away. She changes into cute loungewear instead of worn-out sweatpants and cooks a nice meal just for herself.

She sets the table, which is clear of clutter. There are placemats, a candle, and a flower in a small vase. She eats a quiet, romantic dinner alone. Her apartment feels less like a cramped rental and more like a cozy neighborhood café.

I love this exercise because it isn’t really about tidying. It’s about knowing where you want to end up.

When you’re trying to decide what’s worth working on, especially during seasons of change or intense time pressure, having a clear end vision matters. There have been long stretches of my life, including much of the past year, where I didn’t do this exercise at all. I was focused on getting through the day rather than imagining what I wanted it to look like.

Now that some time has passed and my schedule has opened up a bit, I want to return to it.

So here is my version.

My perfect day at the cottage

I wake up with the sun and start the day by doing animal chores.

If the weather is nice, I stretch outside. If it isn’t, I stretch in the plant room. I wander through the gardens as the sun rises, harvesting for our daily needs, pulling weeds, and checking in. The kitchen is already clean because I shut the house down the night before, so there are no morning chores beyond possibly unloading the dishwasher.

I pull out pre-prepped breakfast items to make something quick for my wife and myself. It’s easy and unhurried. There is no scrambling and no stress. I hate to be rushed.

I get dressed in something that is both cute and comfortable, then take the dogs for a walk for as long as they want to go. When we get home, I tidy the house. The house has a routine, and tidying only takes a couple of hours. The space is always visitor-ready.

I love hosting, and people come over often. Friends stop by the garden or come over for dinner, and it feels casual rather than stressful. There is no panic cleaning or embarrassment. The house is ready because it is designed to be lived in this way. I dream of being the Martha Stewart host of my friend group.

Around noon, I rest. Sometimes I take a nap. Other times I lie on the floor and stretch. Lunch is simple, healthy, and built around seasonal food.

In the afternoon, I spend time on hobbies that are productive and good for my brain. I garden, weave baskets, and embroider. I make Christmas presents by hand, and each one is specific to the person receiving it. They are detailed, thoughtful, and made with care.

When my wife gets home, the house is tidy and dinner is already cooking. It’s timed so that it’s ready after she has had time to decompress. We eat together, usually at the table, or at least in the same space.

After dinner, I move my body. I work out or walk on the treadmill to reach my step goal while working on social media or my tree-selling business. We live simply, and I handle most of the backend systems for the house so that we don’t need as much money as we once did. We are debt-free except for the mortgage on the house.

The day feels calm.

I have time to be creative. I have time to get things done. I have the space to pursue the things I care about without rushing through my life. I am present in it.

That, more than perfectly folded drawers or minimalist shelves, is the vision I’m working toward.

If you feel stuck, overwhelmed, or unsure what to work on next, I really recommend trying this exercise for yourself. Don’t think about what you should want or what looks impressive on paper. Picture an ordinary day that feels good to live in. Notice what you’re doing, what your space supports, and how you move through the hours. That vision can quietly point you toward what actually matters, and toward the small, practical changes that make a life feel more like your own.

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