Sometimes a Manic Hobgoblin gets the better of me. I live in a sweet, old house in central Austin built in 1952. I travel a few times each year. I have too many pets, and love each one more than the next.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
I broke the kitchen last night. I preheated the oven to make corn muffins to accompany vegetable plates. The oven did not get hot, but did stink-up the house something awful with the smell of natural gas. All pets evacuated to the backyard with me, but not before the front of the utensil drawer came off in my hand... again.
So I ask again (mostly rhetorically), why did we buy a house?