Sometimes I wish it was a house like this that represented me.
I won't bother identifying anyone who's being quoted beneath--I'm sure they've either forgotten they ever said it or would be mortified to realize they did. Either way, here are some of the most memorable things people have said to me concerning my house.
"Your house creeps me out."
"Can I burn it down?"
"If it were me, I would have bulldozed it down and started from scratch."
"Your house is ugly."
"You're going to stay in an apartment? That'll be a nice break from your house."
"Is your house haunted?"
I'm like any 'normal' woman and tend to feel like the house reflects who I am which is apparently a crazy, murderous, disheveled witch/bag lady in the middle of one of those extreme makeovers where you undergo rhinoplasty and get veneer teeth and have your eyebrows lifted to your hairline. I think she's probably a good representation:
She's got some intrinsically charming qualities, no?
So, the moral of the story is that one's surroundings do not generally or necessarily reflect who they are. I hope I've learned never to judge the outer appearance or vicinities as a definition of who someone is. Plus, I know all the hard work beautifying our environment will make finishing feel all the more triumphant.