Sometimes it's the little things...

...that make a home yours.

The permanent mark on our linoleum floor where Mike and I (still under debate who is personally responsible) accidentally leaned on the stove knob while putting away groceries, caught our groceries on fire, realized I have not been trained how to appropriately react to a fire and Mike running in and knocking the flames onto the ground. Resulting in above.

The hole under our porch where one, two, possibly three snakes resided. You never know when a snake is going to completely ruin your ice cream cone on the porch.

The pink (debatably mauve by some people's account) carpet. I cried the first time I saw you (not the happy kind). Yet it's amazing how your horrid color seemed to fade and be less important to me as the years went by. I think I actually accepted you as if you were a nice, pleasant beige. Now that's growth on my part.

The cheesy glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of our bedroom. We made fun of them but somehow never had the time in two years to take them down. So they will happily pass to the next resident and they will think that those tacky stars were my fashion faux pas.

The "flame" key. Also another thing to pass to the next lucky resident who will think that we thought the key that looked like fire was cool. No, definitely was not us.

The shelf that Mike built me to store all the cleaning and laundry supplies due to the paucity of storage space. And the amazing labels he made to organize cleaning supplies vs. food storage vs. laundry materials (yes, I'm very much in love with him).

The extra security measures, the motion sensor alarm and second door lock that Mike bought and installed for me to make me feel safe while we lived those three long months apart. Ironic that I felt I needed these on our little lane in Logan after we left our keys in the door for an entire night without being robbed, killed, etc.

Even if it was the little imperfections that made it perfect. It was ours.