Today is a nasty, cold, rainy day here in North Carolina. But I had to run errands anyway. I plodded my way over to the closet to grab my jacket and as I reached for my keys, I remembered that I have a garage. A garage that keeps me dry when I get into and out of the car on nasty, cold, rainy days.
I know I have posted something similar to this before, but it means enough to me to say it again. I grew up poor enough to live in a house that had holes in the roof. It leaked when it rained and we had to have pots and buckets scatted all over the place to catch the water as it came in. When we had errands to run or groceries to buy, and we actually took the car (instead of walking there, like we usually did), if it was raining you would try and bring as many bags as possible into the house at one time so we would get rained on less. The idea of a garage was so foreign to me. I grew up knowing nothing different.
I bought my first house with a garage when I lived in Louisiana. I will never own another house without one. And every time it rains and I have to go out somewhere, EVERY TIME, I thank myself for my work ethic and my financial responsibility that allows me to afford a home that has a garage. Life is good.
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