I think my house hates me. I think it is out to get me down? I know my house is angry at me, for what, I do not know.
I didn’t realize, years ago that I couldn’t tear out a wall full of plaster to put up sheetrock with no advance warnings of Pb. Lead.
I didn’t realize a phone could be flushed down a fifty dollar toilet. True story. I just may need to buy that style again!
I have not had a chance to thank my house for teaching me that windows get installed with effort and ingenuity. My house has also taught me that water runs down hill just like my floors!
Lets consider something though. I think sometimes, no matter how good something is, I think it could be bad as well. Let me explain. I love this house but I feel angry here. Life happens here, yet, almost imperceptibly, life almost doesn’t want to. Which begs us to question whether we are the culprit of our happiness or whether our house hates us?