In an ideal world, I would live in a cute little two story house with a large garden, greenhouse and a menagerie of pets (including a chameleon, tropical fish and plethora of assorted cats and dogs - oh, and don't forget the guinea pigs! Why? I have no idea). I would read and write and play with my kids all day, preferably in flannel pajama pants.
In the real world, I live in a squishy main floor rental with my handsome husband, three angelic children, and a spunky, social beta fish named Donkey Kong.
My husband is a student, I run a small dayhome, and we enjoy regular trips to the library where I max out the limit on my card every time.
I have an insatiable appetite for books, I have a difficult time doing the dishes without daydreaming about my latest writing project, and I wistfully sigh at the sight of my cement enclosed back yard, dreaming up schemes of how to make plants grow from concrete.
It may not be the dream life I mentioned earlier, but you know what? I'm still happy.
Maybe I'm crazy, or maybe I'm just Mandi.
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