I love my house. I LOVE IT!
I was so lucky that the owners were in a hurry to sell. I don’t care that it’s the smallest house on the street, maybe even the whole neighborhood. It’s perfect for me. It looks like a cottage – all dark, gray stone and siding, tucked among the oak trees.
That’s the best thing about older, more established neighborhoods – the trees.
And the neighbors…
Where are my next-door neighbors? I know they’re there. I just haven’t seen them. Should my feelings be hurt?
This isn’t the country, Amy, and you only moved in three days ago.
And look who’s talking! What did I do this morning? I got into my car, pulled out of my garage, and here I am on my way to work.
No one saw me, either.