OurStory

The house smells like fried fish. This is exceedingly odd, because the last thing we cooked was pot roast, which is neither fried nor fishy, and come to think of it I haven't cooked fish of any kind in a long time. Intriguing.*checks Kazaa* OMGSQUEE HAVE VOY EPS DOWNLOADED. *pause* Well, okay, one and some bloopers. That's okay, I'll take whatever I can get. MWAHAHA GIMME.So, life, or an approximation of it. Well, point un-- I'm moving in a little less than a month. All the way back to Atlanta and into my grandmother's house, in fact. This is mildly intimidating, as it's three full stories and 34 years old, on five acres of land. This is the house I grew up in with three people who are now dead, the house I swore I'd buy and live in one day, then grew up and changed my mind, and grew up more and changed it yet again. Oh, I'm not going to live in it for the rest of my life. Perhaps not even for the next five years. But I did the math, and really, house with no mortgage to worry about