I like to play house. I start from scratch and buy a sword. then I buy a better sword. Then I buy a shield. Then I get a hammer. Then I can stab down with my sword.
When my brother and I were young we would line up all the furniture and gijoes (they fit almost perfectly in my dollhouse) for selection. He would mock all my first draft GIJoe picks and I smartly retorted that they were HIS toys. We would spend what seemed like eternity decorating the dollhouse. When all the furniture was just where I wanted it. My brother got to kill off each of the GI Joes I selected and we were done.
So all of the settlement hangups don't deserve details, suffice it to say I am in my new house. I am getting accustomed to the silence and sound of birds in the a.m. freaky. I am very aware of the absence of firetrucks and "Welcome aboard MTAs". Playing house for a month until I select a housemate...that I won't kill. I promise.
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2 comments:
you just told the world your bother played house with dolls. that is sooo emasculating. my sister used to make me marry my gi joe to her skipper doll. that was so fucked up. i'm still angry. but, congrats! ... and what the hell are bullets doing in your junk drawer?
I don't know why bullets are in my junk drawer. Baltimore homeowner right of passage?
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