Our new house is really old…and by old I mean the same age as me. We came into existence in the same year. It’s starting to show it’s age, not on the outside but on the inside. When it’s cold outside it’s cold inside. Our bedroom heats fine, it’s nice and toasty in there but the rest of the house….burrrrr! I never appreciated the energy efficiency of our old house until this winter when I realized it was possible to experience a 15 degree temperature shift just by leaving our bedroom.

The more I think about it, this house and I have a lot in common. The house looks good on the outside and if you don’t look too closely, it still looks great. But after you’ve been here for a little while you begin to notice that it’s starting to age. The stairs creak when you walk up them. The windows need replacing. Some of the drawers in the kitchen don’t close all the way. There’s an unidentified critter living in the attic.You know, stuff like that.

That’s how I feel about myself. I still look pretty good from the outside if you don’t look too closely. I’ve got a nice body with an odd, but albeit good tan. When I’m wearing make-up and dressed nicely I feel good about myself. But I have some age spots on my face. My hips pop with every step I take. My belly button is stretched out from being pregnant. I have a 6-inch scar from my c-section. The fingernail on my right index finger never really grows from slamming it in the car door. I don’t see as well as I used to. My body is starting to show signs of age.

Not that I’m complaining at all. I love this house and I love myself. Yes, we could both use a little remodeling but our current state is nothing that can’t be lived with. Except for the critter…and those last 3 pounds of baby weight…gotta fix those.

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