How to Get a House

too bad property managers don’t accept a bunch of assy bent pipecleaners and plastic “jewels” for payment, bro

Squatting, something Hogabooms could get used to.

Squatting, something Hogabooms could get used to.

Today the kids helped Ralph and I shop for a house.  To rent, not buy.  For now.

My kids are awesome at house-shopping.  They read the map in the car and once at the property freely give startlingly relevant opinions.  “I don’t like that the basement is damp,” and “This can be your sewing room, Mama.”  Today, in a sun-dappled empty living room (ahh… the thought of a non-cluttered space again!) Nels plies the realtor with his resources: “I have enough money,” he says, smiling at her, his arms hugging his long belly.  “I have a whole treasure box I can give to you.” It makes me want to cry – with gladness.  They are awesome kids.  Ultimately today’s viewing didn’t have enough chicken-room and yes – the damp basement was a turn-off.  We’re back to the drawing board tomorrow.

Nels and Ralph are currently out delivering bread and Sophie and I are about to start the film Frankenfish (2004), which I’m sure will be… fish-tastic.

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