When Andy and I went to London earlier this month, I thought I was prepared.
Turns out, Dr. Who, Top Gear, Graham Norton, Inspector Lewis, and Downton Abbey may leave gaping holes in your education that authors P.D. James, Helen Simonson, and Elizabeth George cannot quite fill.
Andy and I haven’t had a real vacation since our honeymoon. That was years ago. No, I’m not telling you how many, but remember, this is a memoir blog. It could be 3 years ago, it could be fifty! (It’s not fifty.) Continue reading London Calling (#128)
Bet your friends would like this (unless they're racists):
Andy wanted a dog. This was because my husband was clueless, of course. While his family had had two dogs, they’d been small ones. The first, his parents told him, had “run away.” [Suspected Translation: hit by a car.] The second had been attacked by a Rottweiler.
After the sellers accept an offer on their house, the rest of the home-buying process is generally tedious. There are housing inspections, termite inspections, and thousands of reams of documents to sign. But at this point in the process, everyone wants the sale to go through. Everyone has incentive to play nice.