We’ve been looking for a key for the last three and a half years and finally found one. We looked in two different counties, two cities, and one town. And we had to walk through room and after room, opening drawers, peeking into closets, and looking around basements. What an ordeal.
Last week we found the key we were looking for. It’s the priciest key we have ever bought, but it opens the door of our very first home. Yes, we waited six decades to buy our first house. That’s what happens if you live like nomads for most of your life.
For a while I imagined that my first and last house would have about 16 square feet – all basement with no windows or doors. Sooner or later we all move into one of those houses or a cozy urn.
The upstairs of this house is full of light and the basement has daylight windows with beautiful views of trees and flowers. I don’t feel like it’s ours though and keep expecting the real owners to show up and ask us what we are doing living in their house.
I would like to use the buying of the house as an excuse for not reading and commenting on other people’s blogs but it’s not a very good excuse, so I will try to add more in order to excuse myself more.
In August I signed up to teach a one-month intensive English writing class, which met 10 hours a week and required that I create a new curriculum. Then WordPress, which had been preventing me from commenting on many other blogs, suddenly stopped sending me email updates.
Dragging my excuses out of my head onto paper makes them look small, but believe me, inside my head they took up a lot of room. I could hardly get around them to tend to anything other than school and house-hunting/finding/moving. When you have a small brain, just about any idea or excuse looks big inside it, so while I am no longer keyless, I’m still clueless.