I have been the owner of several houses over the years. Our first was a trailer house..14 by 70 feet of sheet metal to call our own. The second was a rambler or ranch depending upon which part of the US you are from, and it was damp and moldy. We only lived there for five years before we sold it but each month we struggled to control the mold as I am extremely allergic, and the daily exposure kept me ill for all those years.
Our third home we spent the most time in…..over ten years. I hated the house. I tried to make it my own and feel a connection to it, but the town was so unwelcoming we never did feel at “home” there.
This fourth and final house is a cottage. It looks as if no one ever really had a workable plan for building it..each room sort of tacked on here or stuck on there to create the whole. And I adore it. George loves it. My friends all think it is “us”. This is our last house. My husband promised we would never move again. I promised him the same.
So why am I babbling about houses this morning? Well…..it is sort of…well probably because of…it’s because I can decorate it any way I wish.
And this morning, I decorated the mailbox.
Now, I should have been washing dishes..or painting the lattice privacy fence on the back porch..or finished painting the back wall. Or any number of housewifely chores that have piled up while I have been playing with paints.
Instead, I painted the mailbox.