Last winter, long before I decided I needed a truck, Mighty Marsh convinced me that I should buy a house. Good advice toolbag, now I have to act all old and responsible and do things like mow the lawn and wack the weeds and make homeowner decisions, aka suck. Good thing I have a rad mom to help me take care of a few things since I don’t have an adoring “I’d do anything for you lovey dovey wovey” wife *batting eyes*. Puke. It’s also a good thing I’m awesome.
My house has a front door and some windows and a little black annoying mailbox that once a day I consider taking a 2×4 and a blow torch to. It’s annoying because it’s narrow and deep with a lid that rapes my hand every time I stick it in.
I pressure washed the entire house with one of those cheapsauce $100 washers from Lowe’s. I borrowed it from Jeff. I don’t buy cheapsauce. But I’ll borrow cheapsauce, which makes it freesauce. I get it for free, that’s how I roll, yeah you know what I’m sayin.
If the point of a house is to sleep in it, I’ve succeeded. If the point of a house is to spend lots of money, I’ve succeeded. If the point of a house is to keep you from doing things you love, I’ve succeeded. But not anymore, I’m making a comeback! I have slept outside and started climbing again. But I’m still spending money like your mom at the grocery store. House: 3, Keith: 2.
All the Home photos here.