This Christmas I am wishing for a new house. We are living in a rental and this morning our cat peed on the bed because she’s out of sorts after the move, I found a bug in the refrigerator, and the furnace man told us there’s a colony of black widows living under the house.
I want a charming home with a writing studio that I can decorate with my children’s artwork. I want bookshelves galore, and a writing desk I can stand up at. And I want a door that I can close so I can separate my working life from my relaxing life.
Is that asking too much, Santa?