There's No Place Like Home
(image from justbringthechocolate.com) I've been without a car for two weeks now. The pile of junk that's been masquerading as my husband's car has become feeble and weak, like an old man, coughing, shaking and sputtering. We drive it the four blocks to church, but that's as far as I trust it. Mostly because we could walk if it died altogether. This has led to my unwilling confinement. The walls of my home have steadily moved inward until I feel like I'm living in a closet. The noises that are a normal part of our everyday routine are louder, bouncing off the ceiling and echoing in my head. It's not that I have so many places to go, but it's nice to have the option, especially when the diet Coke craving raises its ugly head. It makes me sad, to feel so dissatisfied and impatient with our home. I love it. We've been here for five and a half blessed years. Our search for this house didn't take long. All of the powers of the universe...