13 March 2010

"We must go and buy us a house soon, duck."

Hello, reader. Today is a heart-fluttering sort of day. I am going to look at a house. For the first time. Ever. In my 30-odd years of life.

Actually, that's not strictly true, and I've just established myself as an unreliable narrator. Wonderful. My mother and father brought me house-hunting with them when I was five, in Savannah, Ga. I remember being quite taken with one brick ranch in particular because it came with a water-bed. Or so I thought. I was much disappointed to learn furniture does not "convey" with houses. (Mother and Father found a home with French doors and pink-and-white azalea bushes. The magnolias with their red-seed pods were my especial favorite.)

So, to amend: Today I am going to look at a house with the intent to purchase it. Now that I have certainly never done before in my life. Hence the heart-flutters.

This blog will chronicle my house-hunting, though that's a rather ugly phrase. It is not my intention to spear and bag my house and carry it in a bloody sack upon my thin shoulders. So allow me my childish delight in referencing an author much-beloved, and say that I am Seeking Lantern Hill.

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