Day 16: My Dream House
I'm going house hunting again on Friday! Or, I will be if I can find a house that stays on the market that long...this is hard. Wish me luck!! I am not exactly pursuing my dream house, though, so don't let this post mislead you.
My dream house...well now.
It has a library. A room lined with shelves full of wonderful books. There's a section of leather-bound tomes that have held their secrets for sharing for ages. There's a section of childish delight in bright colors in the corner. Row upon row of magnificent volumes fill the walls, each beckoning me to dive into the world contained in their pages. There's a large window, an overstuffed and terribly comfortable chair (or two), a fireplace, and a cushy rug on the floor.
It has a bright, open kitchen with lots of counter space and a large sink, and no cupboards too high. Another big window in here. And stone countertops of some sort. Lots of space for me to cook and to experiment. And to bake!
The master bedroom has a large window as well (sensing a theme?), but it opens onto a private balcony/patio screened in by greenery, a private escape for myself and my I-hope-I-have-one-by-then husband.
There are lots of bedrooms, not too big and not to small, for all of my children.
There's a playroom, and a family room, and a formal dining room. Lots of windows, lots of space to be a family.
There's a pool and a porch out back, a place to gather friends over when the weather permits. There's also a lot of festive lighting around to make it glow.
And of course, there are flowerbeds everywhere.
Ooh, and there could be a music room. Mostly soundproofed from the outside, with a high ceiling and lovely acoustics, and my baby grand piano. A place to retreat to, and to teach in.
But most importantly, it's a house full of the sound of little feet and laughter. It's a place friends love to come over, always warm and welcoming. It's a place I call my own, where I raise my family and play and love.
My dream house...well now.
It has a library. A room lined with shelves full of wonderful books. There's a section of leather-bound tomes that have held their secrets for sharing for ages. There's a section of childish delight in bright colors in the corner. Row upon row of magnificent volumes fill the walls, each beckoning me to dive into the world contained in their pages. There's a large window, an overstuffed and terribly comfortable chair (or two), a fireplace, and a cushy rug on the floor.
It has a bright, open kitchen with lots of counter space and a large sink, and no cupboards too high. Another big window in here. And stone countertops of some sort. Lots of space for me to cook and to experiment. And to bake!
The master bedroom has a large window as well (sensing a theme?), but it opens onto a private balcony/patio screened in by greenery, a private escape for myself and my I-hope-I-have-one-by-then husband.
There are lots of bedrooms, not too big and not to small, for all of my children.
There's a playroom, and a family room, and a formal dining room. Lots of windows, lots of space to be a family.
There's a pool and a porch out back, a place to gather friends over when the weather permits. There's also a lot of festive lighting around to make it glow.
And of course, there are flowerbeds everywhere.
Ooh, and there could be a music room. Mostly soundproofed from the outside, with a high ceiling and lovely acoustics, and my baby grand piano. A place to retreat to, and to teach in.
But most importantly, it's a house full of the sound of little feet and laughter. It's a place friends love to come over, always warm and welcoming. It's a place I call my own, where I raise my family and play and love.
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