Sunday, April 1, 2007

On Thursday we put our home of 16 years on the market. The house my wife bought as a bachelorette. That I moved into when we got married. That we spent innumerable hours renovating. That we brought our two daughters home to for the first time. On Thursday afternoon the stove refused to light. The sump pump switch failed. The handle on the toilet broke. In the wind storm Friday, part of the fence blew down. The front light burned out. It's well known that children act out when a major life transition occurs. Apparently houses have feelings, too.

David Wade

Arlington

It started with the thought that a bigger bathroom could accommodate the growing number of unguents my daughters are amassing. While we're at it, we could expand our closet. And add linen storage and recessed lighting -- even skylights. Surely then we wouldn't have ancient shoes sticking out from under the bed, piles of books in the hallway and a coffee stain on the wall. My haircut would be hipper, my clothes cooler, my conversation more thrilling. But I know my family -- messy, explosively creative, nonperfectionist. So I scaled back my plans. Cost of renovation: eight garbage bags.

Kate Holden

Springfield

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