I see a lot of cute houses while walking Button, my neighbor's dog. This blue one with white trim and a yellow door takes the cake, despite not being a birthday building. The quiet Americana vibe just gets to me, you know? Cookies are perpetually baking in there. It wouldn't be allowed for the rooms behind such a cheery yellow door not to be constantly filled with the delicious aroma of brown sugar.
I like houses because I'm a romantic. I can easily construct an ideal scene when the shutters are down and I don't know what's actually inside. Surely the inhabitants of this place are completely regular, with clutter and a TV. But in my mind they read poetry out loud to each other and munch on homey treats and are very happy.
I stayed over at my boyfriend's apartment last night. We went to bed after listening to Lana Del Rey's new album (lackluster) and "Seven Year Ache" (my old favorite). Sad love songs to fall asleep to. I woke up slowly, coming out of a dream, and it was wonderful to have the heat of him at my back. I don't know if we'll ever live together, but it would be nice to not feel uneasy on the set of someone else's movie. I mean that I wish leaving in the morning didn't feel urgent and correct.
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Thank you for sharing your thoughts.