Thursday, February 4, 2016

The Wrong House


Since Adam got a permanent position with his unit, we've been beginning the process of finding a house to live in, instead of our apartment. Aside from the occasional complaint about neighbors who slam the door when they leave at 6am every. single. morning. or think that it's totally appropriate to vacuum at 2am, I honestly prefer living in an apartment - with the same level of feeling that Adam, conversely, feels toward living in a house.

So, in an attempt to get on the same page, Adam and I sat down and he talked through What He'd Like in a House (such as Number of Bedrooms, Number of Bathrooms, Size of Yard, Shop Out Back, Garage Specifications - very grown up things). This exercise was accompanied by going through a real estate flyer and circling houses we found promising - out of over 20 apiece, only 2 overlapped between us. When he was finished, he asked what I thought.

"May I read you a poem?" I asked in answer. (This is what it's like, living with me, in case you ever wondered.)

"Um... sure?"

So I pulled The World of Christopher Robin by AA Milne off my bookshelf and turned to a poem entitled "The Wrong House."

"I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has big steps and a great big hall;
But it hasn't got a garden,
A garden,
A garden,
It isn't like a house at all.

"I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has a big garden and a great high wall;
But it hasn't got a may-tree,
A may-tree,
A may-tree,
It isn't like a house at all.

"I went into a house and it wasn't a house ---
Slow white petals from the may-tree fall;
But it hasn't got a blackbird,
A blackbird,
A blackbird,
It isn't like a house at all.

"I went into a house, and I thought it was a house,
I could hear from the may-tree the blackbird call...
But nobody listened to it,
Nobody
Liked it,
Nobody wanted it at all."

He just stared at me. 

This? This is going to be an adventure.

Gifts...
2378. Rain while we were where we going, but none in the transition
2379. Knitting and reading on the balcony
2380. Leaving the back door so Brooklyn and Tobin could run in and out (in February!)
2381. A clearer head than I've had for awhile
2382. Mum mailing my keys (and them arriving safely and quickly)
2383. Praying together

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