Yesterday, as we drove to “The Old House” to pick up more stuff to move to “The New House,” my daughter said, “I’ll be glad when we’re finished with The Old House.”
For reasons other than hers, and not the least being that we’ve learned this week that we have enough stuff to fill the back of a Toyota Sequoia at least 14 times, came my weary reply: “Me too.”
“Then we can stop with this old-house-new-house-old-house-new-house stuff,” she continued.
“Yes,” I replied. “We can just call it THE House.”
“No,” she answered. “We can call it HOME.”
And just a funny side note: she asked Mr. Ishmail, “Is your mother going to kill you when you get home and she sees what you’ve done to your clothes???”