Tuesday, December 29, 2009


I don't own a house. I wonder sometimes if I ever will. It seems to me that it would be a great expense and also a great disappointment. I would want to make everything perfect-perfectly decorated, perfectly appointed, perfectly managed. I know that I am not capable of perfection. I can't stay caught up with laundry in my apartment, I don't know why I think it would be any different in a house.

The kind of house I want (if we hit the lotto, of course) is an old craftsman bungalow with beautiful wood work and spacious rooms. The kind of house my husband would want is brand-spanking new-generic. Big rooms with big ceilings and no real character. We discuss this, and I know he would win. We would buy a brand-spanking new house and I would forever be remodeling it to create the craftsman character that I love. I would become a master carpenter.

1 comment:

  1. Have him read a book called "The Not So Big House". We have an old "fixer-upper" and it's hard having things not perfect, but it's fun making it into whatever I want. You'll get one some day and you'll love it and hate it, and mostly love it.