My Old Odyssey
Even the dogs, beset by house-sale events, are building themselves defensive forts. Continue reading
Even the dogs, beset by house-sale events, are building themselves defensive forts. Continue reading
It was like a bad movie, except instead of just the milkman running out the backdoor with his clothes, it was Deb, our assistant Dena, and me all carrying dogs and laptops and dirty towels while the realtor and a nice-looking couple looked on, bemused. Continue reading
Our house is suddenly someone else’s house. Not because we’ve sold it already, but because it’s staged with furniture that isn’t ours, nice but fairly anonymous stuff compared to our family’s creative squalor. Anyway, now everything I rearrange seems to glare at me for disturbing its bovine equilibrium. Continue reading