Little Pink Houses

First off, thanks Skip for asking about my posts. I am glad to know I have reader expectations and I am breaking my writerly silence.

 
We got into our house before the era of predatory borrowing and lending. It was the first house we looked at. The only house we looked at.

 
My darling husband is a sentimental person. Everything has a history and a long time ago, he sat on the living room floor with his cousins. They sorted Halloween candy and looked up at the sparkles on the popcorn ceiling.

 
When we bought the house, the walls were pepto-bismal pink and the sight of them made me feel an urgent need to visit the bathroom. Looking into cabinets betrays the staying power of hideous pink paint. The outside of the house is all done up in faded pink asbestos shingles.

 
The house has its quirks. The electrical wiring was installed exactly up-side-down. When one wall of electricity goes down fuse hunting is like a game of hide and seek.

 
The roof is turning grey, not bald yet, but weathered. The outside trim reminds me of pealing skin after a sunburn.
Just this week, we had to have a section of old iron pipe replaced. The Washer and Drier, Dishwasher, Water Heater and Stove have been replaced.

 
The house reminds me of my car. My car is like an aging woman in Hollywood. It has had so many things replaced it shouldn’t be referred to by year anymore. If I can keep it going a few more years, it will be new again.

 
I am not complaining, I am very thankful for our current situation. Our Mortgage is not underwater. Our payments are below a third of our Net Income and my darling husband’s job is secure as long as everyone keeps producing solid waste.

 
But, I do wonder how the house knows just how much we are expecting on a tax return?

 
I hope the place can hang together long enough for us to make our last payment sometime in 2022.

 
Till next time, be well and read well. Comments are always welcome.

 
Since I began this post with a Thank-you to Skip, let me end by mentioning his blog. He writes with joy that shows through. He doesn’t spend time fitting into a formula or constraints. I like his stories because as I read them I feel the happiness Skip has as he simply tells the story. His work has an unstilted enviable freedom and I hope he never loses the spark of ‘telling it big.’  You can find Skip’s blog at http://skippermiller.wordpress.com