Sunday, March 20, 2011

Our house, is a very, very, very fine house...

It just doesn't feel like mine and i think I figured out why.
Nothing here represents me.
I tried to paint but couldnt afford to finish (and without any help, it took a long time).
Still lack a lot of furniture and while I love what we do have, it's old now and we need new stuff. We dont have a dining room table, our kitchen table doesnt suit or needs. Our couches are comfy but breaking in a slouchy-kind-of-way. I could go on and on but dont worry, I wont.
I have frames to hang up but my printer kind of sucks now and well, I dont have pictures to go in the frames.
The outside is crap since very time I try to garden, I breakout in bad hives or oozing welts from the bushes. They all (front, sides, and back) look yicky and are totally not me.
The house is just a house.
It's not really a home until I can put my mark all around it the way the kids have.
I know I shodul be thankful we own our home and have a place to live.
I know I shoudn't want for anything. I feel wrong when I do, but it feels like something is missing here and I wish I could fill that void.

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