Crocodiles in the window

I fell hard for my home...not "a" home, but my home. Somewhere during the course of the month, as realtors and new families, traipsed through and peeked in my closets and peered behind my shower curtain, I fell deeply in love with my home on Lyttleton Drive. This past year, I wanted to run from our drafty bedrooms, our heater that runs all day, our attic stairs that don't quite make it all the way up (they just need a "little" nudge into place), the beat up screened door that can't seem to keep it's screen secure, the dated louvered front doors, and the "sweating" windows. My house was perfect in two seasons, spring and fall. Winter and summer threw it for a loop. Our HVAC is begging to be replaced and people in the fifties knew little about the merits of insulation. There have been great strides in the window industry and my moldy, mildewy windows long to be brought into the 21st century. But for now, I will revel in my sweaty windows and the crocodiles Mae draws in the condensation each morning.

I spent the better part of six months searching for perfection, but what I realized is that I'm perfectly happy here.