I mean it's really bad. I am making excuses for everything. And you can tell by the big eyes that most of these people would never live in such substandard housing. Like cardboard boxes might be one upping me right now.
It doesn't matter if you love your house to them. They see the disaster in front of them, and go, "People live here?"
Yep. With kids. *shudder*
It reminded me of the days of PoPo. I must have thought the same. Wait. I don't have poop buckets sitting around. My plumbing works and so does the house's. I guess I don't have meth issues, although it looks like a disguise. I'm really not a narc right now. I don't beat the kids nor the dogs.
The floors to the Harry Potter Haus are ripped up and down to the original hardwoods, except for the parlor which has the yucky carpet on it. These hardwoods are not refinished, but looking pretty rough. And then people.
People come over and I am embarrassed. It's funny how daily I get used to it and it doesn't bother me at all. The outside of the house is pretty pitiful with peeling paint and broken board siding. My barn roof leaks. It needs paint, too. No one can really see all the work I have done on the inside because it is mostly structural and those kind of fixes. Maybe my patchwork walls are not attractive and I should do something about them. I can't decide on paint colors either. I should just stop being such a wishy washy homeowner and get to crackalackin' before it gets more embarrassing when HGTV comes to give me the winning HGTV dream home.
"You have three dogs in here?"
Yep. Running free. *shudder*
It's crazy. It's chaos. It's a fucking 19th century farmhouse. Animals are on farms. Like many. We resemble that. We are the farm.
|It doesn't look so bad from this angle.|
Welcome to the Harry Potter Haus. We are happy.
I am the queen of my
Yes, I am working on it. It gets done according to funds and time. Sometimes I have neither. We will fix it. Please come back.
We're different folks. You think my house is crazy? You should read my blogs.