“MY HOUSE IS A VERY VERY VERY FINE HOUSE”
With only one cat in the yard, life used to be so… different.
And now, here it sits — my Little White House, ready for me and all that comes with this transition.
I’ve lived in the country. I’ve lived in the suburbs. And now, it’s time for city life — not a new city, but a new way of living in the one I already call home.
This little white house isn’t particularly different from all the other houses along its not-so-quiet little street. It doesn’t stand out. It isn’t grand or imposing. But somehow, it spoke to me.
We came for a look, and of course, I ran on instinct. Or perhaps it was feelings. Whatever it was, the moment I stepped through the door, I knew.
And once I know, I know.
The ball was in motion.
While my partner was trying to remain calm and sensible, I already had the plans forming in my head. I could see where things would go, what I would change, how I would make it ours. There was already an offer on the table, but somehow I knew I had to have it.
And now we do.
We took the leap.
And here we are.
I’m not moving to a new city. I’m simply moving closer to its heartbeat — right into the heart of the city I already know and love.
It’s light and bright and warm. It feels like a house waiting for its new chapter to begin — waiting for my things to arrive, for the rooms to be filled, for the familiar treasures and little pieces of me to find their places.
Because houses are only houses until we fill them with our lives.
And I’m ready to give this one its next chapter.
A new home.
A new rhythm.
A different way of living.
And a little more city right outside my door.
So, here begins the story of My Little White House in the City — a little house, a big transition, and another chapter of life waiting to unfold.
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