During the first year of our relationship, The Canadian One and I made grand plans. We would run off to Canada (read: carefully apply for permanent residency visa, save money and leave), make lots of money, buy a big house and HE would build me a treehouse.
Not that I’ve ever really had much of a desire to be in a treehouse in general but owning a treehouse seems exciting. It could be because I watched too many American TV shows growing up and I think everyone has a treehouse. And a colorful mailbox. And a dog. And a talking car. We have a tiny apartment and, at a push, I’d say Siri is mildly clever, although she still doesn’t understand my Irish accent. I wouldn’t trust her to save me if I were kidnapped either. She can’t even locate people in my contacts book, how is she supposed to guide me in the real world…using Apple Maps…come on now!
But then I came across THIS!! And now, now more than ever, I want The Canadian One to build me a treehouse. EVEN if it’s just to look at…and obviously to sit about drinking alcohol in. I mean, what else would I do in a treehouse?