So there it is: Our new home.
And I’d show you a better picture of it, but, unfortunately, shithead extraordinaire that I am, I neglected to take a single photo of the place while we were there over the weekend deciding to buy it. Thus, the shot you are looking at was taken this morning by the home inspector we hired.
It’s very weird to look at a picture of a house that is 350 miles away and realize that you soon will be living there. Fortunately, I’m totally stoked about the place … particularly the yard, which is twice the size of our current yard. Many a game of catch will soon take place on that lawn.
Also? I have a garage. A GARAGE! Right now, all I have is a carport and a shed … the latter of which is so jammed packed with bikes and outdoor toys and various yard-work paraphernalia that, in order to get that one thing you need, you have to take out everything else. Soon, however, I shall push a button and watch as the door to my new garage magically opens and presents to me a delightfully spacious place in which to easily store the abundance of shit that needs storing. (And please don’t spoil my storage fantasy by bringing up the fact that there won’t ever be enough room to also put an actual car in the garage, because LA LA LA LA LA I’M NOT LISTENING TO YOU.)
In addition to the yard and garage, I’m also stoked about the brick exterior — not only because of its ability to repel the huffing and puffing of big, bad wolves, but also because I will never, ever, ever have to paint it.
PS: Here’s the side view:
Lotsa lawn, I tell ya. Lotsa lawn. (Perhaps this excites me so much because, in my current house, I can lean out the window and grab something from my neighbor’s refrigerator?)