The entire family is together again but I’m not a fan of our rental home.
I have only myself to blame because I chose it; I clearly have problems conceptualizing space because I thought there would be plenty of room for our stuff. There isn’t. One room is nothing but boxes. Our guest room is half-filled with boxes. We have walls lined with book boxes because there isn’t anywhere to put them if we unpacked them, and we’re already looking to buy our own house, so we may as well keep the stuff packed.
The house is actually cute from the outside. It would require a bit of updating to bring it up to our standards…even opening the washer and dryer is a hassle because the doors bump against the radiator cover. It’s death by a thousand cuts, as the saying goes. The roof is not going to collapse, but when it rains we find out a window leaks, and when we open the cabinets under the sink, we find a random puddle of water but cannot locate the source, and when we flip a switch a light may or may not come on, and when we turn on the dishwasher, we find the soap cartridge doesn’t open, and when we close a door, it may or may not stay shut…just a bunch of stupid little things that make us crazy.
But at least we’re together again and we have a roof over our head. A leaky, old roof.