The View

Maybe by now you're wondering why I love my old house so much. Maybe it's the fact that it was a good first house. A solid first house. The place where both my sons learned to crawl and walk and talk and how to draw on walls.

Maybe it's because it's beautiful.

See that front porch? My favorite room in the house. Perfect for the Sunday New York Times and a strong cup of coffee. Perfect for cool evening breezes and glasses of wine. In other words, a great place for beverages any time of day or night.

Or the spacious living room. . .


See that hardwood lovingly refinished by hand? Ahh. The memories.

The kitchen first sold me on the place. And I like to cook.


There are lots of things to love about this house. Sure, it's not perfect. No old house is. That's part of the fun of owning the crotchety old things, though. You find out their quirks, you learn to live with them, you love them, you hate them, they comfort you, they annoy you. It's the non-personification of marriage. It's that constant pull, that ever-present push, that hunger that can only be sated by a good night's sleep in your own bed.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Or way off topic.

Tomorrow holds another showing. Keep your fingers crossed!