Dear House...

I have a love-hate relationship with you.

Today I love you for your walls.  Even though there are holes hidden behind pictures and make-shift closet rods and maybe the new towel hooks I just put up...that look fabulous, by the way.

I still love your walls.

I am frustrated though, that they have not had a much needed coat of fresh paint in a color that would warm our souls.

I do love your ceilings, which bring back memories of working on them when you were new to us.

We carefully (ok - not so much 'WE' as 'HUB', I admit...) scraped off the cottage cheese that looked like cat litter.

We talked.

We laughed.

We made memories.

I remember the songs that played on the radio, and the fun we had stamping the crows feet pattern.

I remember our hopes and dreams and plans that within your walls we would be safe, and warm and loved.

I hate the color of your floors and crave the chance to spruce you up, just a little at a time, but consistently.

We will get there.

In the mean time, don't give up on us and please don't get hurt.  You've done pretty good so far not to get dinged from the many trips up and down your stairs and hall ways.  I'd also request that you politely say no to any other families of any kind that may want to co-habitate with us.

At the end of the day, when we are finally in our beds and we drift off to sleep, we are truly grateful for you and all your, shall we say, charming qualities.