body

About two weeks ago, I was walking home along Wilcocks and Robert streets, when I noticed there were two houses for sale. I rushed home to tell my dad, and to urge him that we should buy. It has always [read: since last year] been my dream to live on Robert St. The houses there are charming and small, built before the days of the cookie-cutter paper-mache house. The dream was to buy such a house, and fill it with Great Danes and children adopted from Eastern Europe. I would make sugar cookies in the shape of the Ampelmensh, and be happy.

But I digress...

Earlier this week, as I was taking that same route home, I saw that both houses had been sold. Seeing as how *ahem* certain friends have been trying to sell a certain house in a certain suburb for months, I was amazed with the speediness.

I'm sure you don't think much of my story, but the experience made quite the impression on me. Within two weeks, someone had bought my dream house.

Now what am I going to do with all these Eastern European children?