We still have two houses that we call home.
It makes for confusion sometimes. Which house am I waking up in this morning? Where am I today?
Horns, sirens, motorcycles? Oh yes, i’m in the city.
Trucks and tractors, coyotes and cows? Oh yes, i’m in the country.
But more and more it is the city house and the cottage home.
My iPhone tells me 1 hour and 8 minutes to home, but it is referring to the city house. That’s when we know traffic is good. (Really it should be I-79 that we call home.)
Now that the City House is For Sale, we have to tiptoe around. No mess-making. No cooking garlic and onions… It’s hard to live where there are no garlic, onions, or messes allowed.
Meanwhile, at the cottage, we’ve been doing the little things that make a house a home:
But really, how can a house feel like a home when the bathroom still looks like this?
I’m here at the cottage by myself a lot these days while Mr. H.C. finishes up his work responsibilities in the city. Who knows what I might do… 😜