Him: House. House, house! House?
Me: House! House house house. House house, house, house house house.
Him: House. House house.
Rinse and repeat. Needless to say, when I’m not working or doing my usual scheming over new ways to take over the world, I’m thinking about the House-with-a-captial-H. The house we are buying. Did you read that? Buying. A house.
It’s actually a townhouse. It’s in a great neighborhood. It’s within walking distance to the workplace. It has closets up the wazoo, three floors, a semi-finished basement, a master suite (I feel like I have to append “bitches!” at the end of that – it’s not just a “master suite,” it’s a “master suite, bitches!”) with a balcony (a balcony! Off the bedroom! It’s like Hollywood! Except in Maine, and without the paparazzi! We can take our careless, naked cavorting to a whole new level), a deck, a yard, and lots of trees.
Obviously I can’t wait to move in, but the whole process has me acting
a bit unsettled like a lunatic. One moment I’m perfectly fine, and the next I’m bawling into my Cheerios. Except I don’t even eat Cheerios, which just goes to show you how totally out of sorts I am.
All this to say, it was a welcome distraction to find one of my photographs on the front page of Etsy this morning. Yay! Something to get excited about that doesn’t involve forking over the entire contents of my savings account!