Because. Is the thing. I'm ready for a house lately. I find myself spending weekends I don't have to spend cleaning and running errands and shopping and baking bread. I wrote, and it's true, that I'm not baby hungry, but I am hungry for domesticity. I'd like to my days organizing and cleaning and crafting even, cooking. I'd like a dining room with a nice tablecloth and good dishes and matching flatware to throw dinner parties in.
This is partially a longing to abandon responsibility, yes, but there's something deeper here, too. Something nesty.