Yesterday Elbow and I closed on a house. I know this is supposed to be a momentous occasion for us, so we skipped out of the building, chugged a bottle of champagne and hitched a ride on a horse buggy for a "romantic tour of the historic French Quarter" while tossing rose petals at the passerby.
Psych.
What we really did was go eat Mexican food with our realtor and her husband and compared memories of our economically depressed hometowns. Ha ha. We scoff at the people we grew up with who buy bigger houses than ours at 1/6 of the price, like you can in parts of West Virginia. They don't get to carry their open beers on the streets or ride the streetcar to the strip clubs like we can. Of course they don't have streets because they all live on back roads in the "holler" and have mailing addresses that start with "Rural Route . . ."
I'm only poking fun because I'm sorta homesick. Summer time is lovely in West Virginia and the surrounding area. I'm envious of all of my friends who are enjoying nighttime Pirates games and swimming at Mule's Hole or camping at High Falls of Cheat. That's the best.
It's great to camp in Louisiana, too. Mosquitos that draw blood and heatstroke are awesome. And you can only go October-March. The only people who sleep outside this time of year are the ones who passed out on Bourbon Street.
Once we move in, I'll post pics of the new house!
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