If you're looking for Harwich, you're lost.

Chatham is indeed a town on Cape Cod. But our house isn't there. The point of the above titling is that it looks like it could be because it's a fairly adorable (though most have called it cute and really it thinks it deserves better than that, you visionless fools) cape cod, but it's in the South. Plus I have unmatched love for my nor'eastern roots and there's a room we already refer to as "The Captain's Quarters," so basically I'll call it whatever the hell I want until R and I come up with something on which we agree, which doesn't seem likely in the near future because the most apropos name for it would be something along the lines of "VodkaSoda Village" or "Escapefromamillionweddingsville." So whatever, for now.

Since the majority of you who will end up reading this either:
- are already slaves to every 12 minutes
- obsess about your baby 95% of the time
- are foolishly searching for legitimate home advice / cape code tourist information / porn

then :
- be a slave to my sick, sick sense of humor. And entitlement. And get me a beer while you're up. Now.
- join me in obsessing over the shades of brown in the Home Depot paint section rather than in your spawn's diaper!
- click back / click back / click forward, you saucy minx!

Haaaaaaaaaa. God. So anyway, in reality, I'm stuck in a creative rut of sorts, so I'm hoping blowing off steam on this whole we for serious own a home thing through the internets will bounce me back to the days of yore (i.e. 6th grade) when I could drop a simile like that new alli stuff makes you crap your pants. Don't act like you don't know. Oh, and it'll be cool to have the before and after pictures for the grandkids, or for the apocalypse. Either way.