I think it's safe to say that I fell in love with this house at first sight. I loved the floorplan, the beautiful deck and wooded back yard, the enormous master bath, the beautiful kitchen with the island and gorgeous cherry cabinets. But it wasn't until the first time we stepped into this house as the new owners that I discovered two things I hadn't noticed before that I absolutely hated. The first being the insane amount of brass (all cabinet knobs in kitchen and bathrooms, switchplates, outlet covers, light fixtures, door knobs, and so on...) and the second being the wooden toilet seat in the downstairs half bath. I mean no disrespect to any of you who may have wooden toilet seats in your own homes, but they're just not my cup of tea. So I have always hated this toilet seat, but any time I've mentioned that I'd like to get a new one, I've been met with that look. You know, the one that says, "It's just a toilet seat...get over it." And then a couple of months ago, I noticed it was getting a crack down the middle of it, no doubt from being slammed around and such, and this only made me despise it more. And so you would think I would have been thrilled the other day when it finally split into two pieces. (I mean after I dug the splinters out of my behind.) Still, I should have been thrilled and yet all that was running through my mind was the conversation I had with Jackson a few days ago. I was folding a load of his laundry and he came over to watch me.
Jackson: Oh, is that my Spiderman underwear?
Me: Nope, it's my underwear.
Jackson: No it's not!
Me: Sure it is!
Jackson: You don't have Spiderman underwear!
Me: I don't? Well, what kind of underwear do I have?
Jackson: Uh, big ones!
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