We went to look at a new house yesterday, and I loved it. It’s just to rent, and it’s nothing fancy, but it’s wonderful. There’s a small living room and a small dining room that lead into the most beautiful kitchen ever.

It’s got yellow walls and nice countertops and light streaming through sheer white curtains. It’s the kind of sunny kitchen I’ve imagine about my entire life. Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted a sunny yellow kitchen with a breakfast nook. It’s got no breakfast nook, but the sunny kitchen part is enough.

There’s a lovely basement with nice tiled hard floors and a laudnry room ooposed to the wet, moldy basement we’ve got now. That’d be our family room.

There are three bedrooms, and one’s huge and supposed to be the master but would be the one my sister and I would share. We planned where our beds would go, and I imagine ebds on the opposite sides of the room, my bookcases along the wall and my elephants line up on their shelves. Books everywhere, the way I see it. The other two are about the same size, rather small, and when my brother’s home from college he’d share one with my other brother and my mom would get the other.

The only problem is my brother, when my other brother’s away from college, has his massive room all to himself where he can listen to music and watch Star Wars and put all of his Star Wars replicas on his shelves. He’s older than me and my sister, so maybe he and my brother should share the big room, but it seems kind of pointless when my oldest brother is only there three months in the summer and maybe one month summing up all of his breaks.

My sister and I want half-purple, half-orange walls in what would be our room. If we move, I can start all over with room decoration, and there’s promise in that. Promise in making my room look like a library.

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