Stuff and Nonsense: Home Is the Nicest Word There Is


Home Is the Nicest Word There Is

We closed on Little Brick Ranch yesterday. Ever since our offer was accepted back in September, I've felt superstitious about sharing details here. I wanted Little Brick Ranch so badly, you see. From the moment I walked into the house, I was smitten. A two bedroom brick ranch from the early 60s with less space and fewer amenities than our current house? A house with a complete tear-out of a kitchen? Heavens, yes. The heart wants what it wants, to quote the poet.

To write about Little Brick Ranch, to dare to tell the (not) indifferent universe how much I love the house, would jinx everything. So I have tried to keep quiet here and on social media. I constantly talk about the house out in The Big Blue Room. Just yak, yak, yak. Don't know how my coworkers (or therapist, for that matter) put up with me. Lynn, someone should say, SHUT. UP. NO-ONE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR PLANS FOR A VEGETABLE GARDEN YOU DON'T OWN.

In my mind, talk about Little Brick Ranch is just air, impermanent and cheap. Writing it down, though. Writing it down makes it true and anything that true about love completely chaps the not-indifferent universe, bringing down all sorts of misery. Am I the product of a written culture? Heck yeah and riddled with the vestiges of Catholic guilt, to boot.

TL;DR: We are now the happy owners of Little Brick Ranch in all its flaws and glory.