Chickens and Houses

I am kind of sorry to report that we didn't get the house. We rejected the seller's counter offer and, after much deliberation and conversation, we've decided to cool our jets on the whole house-buying quest. Nothing that's available right now has either one of us clamoring and there's no reason to rush into something that doesn't have us at least mostly thrilled. 

I can't stop mentally decorating our imaginary house, though. I have a file folder filled with pages from magazines that I am entirely too anxious to bring to life. At the same time, I haven't done a whole lot other than take care of Beatrice since she was born, so the thought of physical labor of any sort is somewhat intimidating. I feel kind of weak. Like I should be eating bon-bons, maybe playing croquet. Perhaps on the lawn of an English castle (or a French or Irish castle--I'm not picky). Then again, I think I'd do just fine in a manor of some sort. A manor would be more manageable and we could have chickens. 

ah, yes...chickens...