We live in a very nice townhouse. I say nice because it has two full bathrooms (a novelty, to me at least). It also has a loft area that has been dedicated as my husband's 'office' / library. It has mostly become a dumping ground for random paraphernalia, playroom for the kids, and ironing station. With a computer thrown in for good measure.
But I digress.
Of the five homes we've lived in during our ten year marriage, this one seems to suit us the best for a myriad of reasons: location, mostly. Halfway between church and Husband's office, so he need only drive thirty minutes to either location.
|This was our townhouse two years ago. It hasn't changed much, except there's less snow now. And the kids are bigger.|
However, I am a house girl. I dislike sharing walls with neighbors, tiny backyards full of dandelions, tall and narrow floor plans, not being allowed to paint the walls or fix the maintenance issues on my own, and always feeling as though I'm on pins and needles anticipating another move at any time.
My children are most upset because it means that we can't have pets.
They often ask me for stories about the dozens of pets that my husband and I razed when we were kids and have imagined the potential adventurous bliss of having pets of their very own.
They have taken to pestering their Father about "what kind of pet do YOU like?" every day or so and drawing pictures of what they consider 'good' pets and 'bad' pets in an endless pro/con list of potential candidates.
This is not going over well with Daddy. He tends to dislike the out-of-doors and prefers to avoid it. A home of our own means maintenance of a yard, which he had his fill of as a teen, thank you very much.
But I think the children are wearing him down.
Either that, or just annoying him.
Sometimes its hard to tell the difference.