Just think of me as your real estate concierge.
September. Sunshine. Selling time!
Clear title: If you have it, you clearly own your house.
Stuff happens that makes us feel like we got the salt kicked out of us.
The petite, muddy handprints of raccoons splayed over the outdoor cushions, reminding me there must have been quite a (wildlife) party last night.
Owls like to dine on rats. Right?
I might have been pickier if I’d known I was going to be here forever.