Wednesday, April 1, 2009


My house is not really an apartment, see-we've made it something so much better. We love each other!
That makes it real.
When people ask me where I'm from, I want to say "#304!" not Utah, or Washington.
Because the house may be temporary, but our relationships and memories are so lasting, and comfortable-it feels like home to me.
We get in our sweats, and we sweat, and our eyes do too, sometimes.
Those things don't expire with contracts in August.

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