I'm one of those people that, when in the passenger seat, strain out my window to look into other people's windows as we're driving by. I'm no peeping tom, I'm mostly looking for walls, furnishings, etc. I just like to see how other people live. I've yet to see a naked person (thankfully!) and I've picked up a design tip or two for the home decor advice column I write for a client in Australia (seriously, I do write one).
Here is my house:
Isn't it pretty? My mom drew my attention to the fact that it looks great in pictures. I have to agree, it does look like a nice house. From the outside, you can't tell that the layout is a bit on the unbalanced side.
Perceptions are wonderful things. My mom informing me of what a nice house I had actually made me remember what it was like to appreciate it. Way back before I had four kids and three bedrooms upstairs, I loved my house. I'd walk up the driveway when it was night, listening to the frogs croaking in the creek up the street and I would just be blissed out. Before I was worried that my baby would fall down the back stairs (and before he did fall down the front stairs), I enjoyed the green grass in my yard.
I'm lucky, because I have a house to love/hate. I feel fortunate for that all the time. Do I wish I had a bedroom for each kid? You bet. Do I wish even more that I could knock a hole in the floor of my kitchen and create a staircase to the lower level? Oh yeah. That would be amazing. *Hides my jackhammer from husband*
Oh well, we can't have everything!
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