I was on a work call the other day, where one of the participants sat at her desk in a room I could have sworn was somewhere in Paris. But it wasn’t she said, it was her tiny apartment which she turned into a Parisian artists loft tucked somewhere near Sacré-Cœur. You know the ones in the attic, with large windows and open space filled with canvas, paint brushes, and whatever artists collect to create an inspirational space. Secretly I knew she and I would be great friends. Yesterday I took a much needed day off from work and just drove around a bit in the rain trying to figure out if it is worth my effort to plan out 2021, like I normally do each year, or simply let the new norm restrictions guide the course so not to feel as disappointed. I returned home, thinking perhaps I should embark on all the home renovation projects I had been pondering over in 2020: such as designing an actual garden for the backyard, updating the …