
Our house went on the market today. I begrudgingly call it "our" house -- even though both of our names are on the deed, Matt hasn't lived here in 18 months or so, and it really doesn't seem like his house any more ('cept when the mortgage is due. Then it's ALL his house.).
I watched people trudge through today, looking at my stuff, talking about how they would change this little thing, or that little thing; one woman asked "why is the sofa over there?" I know stuff like this is subjective, and I've been househunting enough to know that I'm guilty of the same thing, but there's something a little insulting about watching people paw your stuff and then dismiss it. I feel like my privacy has been invaded.
Then I remembered. I put all my shit out there on my blog. Photos, sadness, cookie dough habit…who am I to get pissed about people looking at my stuff? I made my stuff public a while ago.
I really need to think about this one for a while.
In the meantime, if you know anyone who wants a nice little farmhouse 1/2 mile from the beach, let me know =)