I am looking for a house. A house is looking for me. One of these days we will bump into each other and say, with surprised eyebrows, “Oh! There you are! I’ve been looking all over!” and a marvelous friendship will burst forth into existence like a rainbow in the storm of life. Really, that’s what will happen. I’ll see if I can get some photgraphic evidence of the event for you non-believers. I know you’re out there, smirking at my whimsy. Ha! When wilde whimsy rules the world you won’t be smirking anymore. You’ll probably be dancing with unicorns under a sky sparkling with an utter LACK OF POLLUTION. Bring muffins if you remember. Lemon-poppyseed is my favourite.
When I find my house, not only will I have made a new structurally practical friend, but as a handy bonus, I will have a nice dryish place to live with my fur children and explore the wilde life. I see good times ahead, folks. General good times, true, for they are frequent and delightful in their own non-abodelike way, but after that inital meetngreet I imagine the proportion of good times classified as “house-related” will be somewhat higher.
And if you come into my gingerbread blog, little children, and stay until your caged fingers are fat with the clicking and the typing, you are almost SURE to experience, second and possibly third hand, the joy and wonder of saving the wilde life.