We is a-moving. Well, we is a-starting to.
Rick wants to stay local. Kris wants to stay local. Rick wants a townhouse. Kris thinks a townhouse would be a good idea, too, 'cuz who wants yardwork?
Rick has found NO houses. Kris keeps finding houses but can't get one CERTAIN house out of her head. Yep, I have found my perfect dream home. No, I'm not kidding.
There is one tiny problem, though. It's not local. It's not a townhouse. It's not in the city.
It's in the country.
I am not a country mouse. I am not a mouse at all. The house is MUCH smaller than our current home but still decently large for me ... and since I'm not a mouse, it will still feel big.
Problem ... Rick won't move there. He says it's too far. It's too redneck. It's in the country.
I drove Rick TO the house but since he did not like the drive (20 minutes outside of town), he did not go inside. BIG MISTAKE.
If you want your husband to fall in love with your dream house ... it's best he go inside.
Here's our house ... I mean, my dream house.
Okay, so what's so great about this house? You think it looks pretty normal?
You'd be right.
EXCEPT ... it has a hideaway for me. Most important. I can HIDE AWAY!!
Three bedrooms downstairs (Rick even gets the master bedroom!) and one tiny little nook just for me upstairs. It's a hidden upstairs ... and you'd never even know I was there!
SHE SHED? Whatever it's called, I want it. I want to hide away. From life. From Rick. From real estate. From everything.
Put some scissors in my hand, put some scrapbooking materials in front of me ... and set me free. I'd be a scrapbooking fool, I would.
I would not.
There's a bedroom upstairs so I'd be a-nappin'.
Now, if I can only get Rick to venture with me. I'm sure he'd love to see me disappear into my own little chick room.
If I could just get him through the dang front door.