So I found my dream house. Seriously.
I. Am. Swooning.
Gray stone. Wrap-around porch. Huge windows.
Victorian. Gothic ironwork. A turret. Fountain in the yard.
And... and... and... (wait for it...)
A turquoise roof?!
The room at the top of the turret would be all mine.
A dark, rich, luxurious place painted dark gray
and filled with French provincial furniture.
Artwork, books, typewriters, and candles.
I'd write there. Best-selling novels and these blog posts, of course.
Seriously. This house was made for me.
