Except it totally wasn't anonymous. It was totally Bestest Friend.
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I saw right through your flimsy disguise. |
She's right, of course. I adore Bestest Friend's house, right down to the pink bathroom tile and the piano in the living room.
And the Formica! Actual, unironic Formica in the kitchen.
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No, this is not her kitchen, but I would snap this up if I could find it. |
And by sub-optimal, I don't mean that it's not located in a beautiful little New England town, or that it's not walking distance from a state park, or that it's not in a neighborhood just bursting with charm and general coziness.
Because it's absolutely all of those things.
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Did I have a point? I seem to have lost my train of thought. |
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Somewhere outside Texas. |
But New England also has four distinct seasons, and three of them are Cold, Chilly, and Freeze Yer Tits Off.
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Exactamundo. |
Listen up: It's not that I identify as a Texan who's never experienced a temperature in single digits or had to shovel snow in May. Nope. But I do identify as a native Midwesterner who's decided she ain't never going to subject herself to five months of winter in a calendar year ever again.
I mean, 90 degrees at bedtime isn't so great, but a high temperature with a negative sign in front of it is not my tall, cold glass of unsweetened tea.
If I look hard enough, I know I can find a little old house that's full of the same Northeastern charm as Bestest Friend's abode.* It won't have a basement, and it probably will have central air. But these are compromises I can make.
All of this makes me really crave a visit to Bestest Friend's place. This is not a great time for me to travel, but soon. Soon.
Don't you DARE take down that pink tile before I can get back up there. That's an order.
*Abode. It's where you abide. It's a private joke. She gets it.
When asked why he moved to Sri Lanka Arthur C. Clarke replied, "Forty English winters." I know there were other reasons, but do you really need another reason? And while I find that kitchen startlingly charming I'm afraid of the washing machine on the left. I have a hard enough time keeping tomato sauce off my white shirts. I don't want to wash clothes so near to where I prepare food.
ReplyDeleteBestest Friend here: Chuck receives daily emails from me from November through April complaining bitterly about the New England winters. I would pack up and move back to Texas in a heartbeat if only I could convince my spouse to leave his precious Massachusetts...
ReplyDeleteAlso, Chuck, please visit soon. The pink tiles may bite the dust sooner than later if we actually get started on our bathroom renovation project!
No house is worth leaving Texas for.
ReplyDelete