Rose read the Never Never Land post.
Now she is homesick for those homes.
Now she is homesick for those homes.
Me, too.
Well, I am more than homesick, I am wistful.
I am yearning for those first two homes we owned.
Did I mention that each of them was brand spanking new?
And that each was a tract house in a neighborhood full of houses just like them?
And that I didn't care?
The spanking newness offset the cliche of matching houses.
Any money we put into those two homes was all for beautifying.
 |
| My charming home. |
Now I live in a charming home.
And my charming home has a sleeping toilet--
on the floor of my bedroom.
And my charming home has a sleeping toilet--
on the floor of my bedroom.
And a hole in the ceiling of my kitchen.
And a hole in the ceiling of my living room.
And a handyman husband who is still trying diagnose the leaks...
My charming home is made of approximately the same material as corrugated cardboard.
Imagine cardboard in rain.
And humidity.
Yes, it is melting away.
Like cotton candy in the sweaty fist of a toddler.
Shoot.
Charm be damned.
My next house will be brand new.
A modern loft in the city.
And I will always have fresh flowers.
And I will be less grumpy.
And Doug and I will always hold hands.*
*if you have not yet looked at the post Never Never Land, go there now.
*if you have not yet looked at the post Never Never Land, go there now.
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2 comments:
I know... it's all falling apart, isn't it? home ownership be damned, i say. I want a landlord all of a sudden. and a condo fee :) your front yard is charming. that's important, isn't it?
But you left out all of your charming friends! And we'd miss you and secretly know that you always hold Doug's hand anyway.
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