• 86°

Oh give me a home…

A lot of times my oldest daughter will ask me questions — off the wall, random questions — about why things work the way they do; why this is this way or that way, and so on. More often than not, I don’t know the answer. I haven’t got the foggiest clue how to explain how a traffic light works or why an Aztec warrior will outfight a ninja.

So when she asks me these things, I always have one thing to say: “We’ll Google it when we get home.”

When all else fails, we head to the nearest web browser and see what the answer is.

Often when I find myself pondering things like 401(k) investments or how to fix a leaky roof, I, too, will consult the all-knowing Web.

Here lately though, my biggest dilemma is that I have house fever.

I’ve already told people how much I am addicted to real estate, but here lately, the need to possess a home of my own is really preying on my mind and my heart.

I scan MLS listings, thinking of how this one or that one would work for us.

I drive the roads of Covington County, wistfully eyeing the “For Sale by Owner” signs and playing the mental “how much” game.

What I want is a home — a place that my children can bring their children to and say, “I grew up here.” I want it to be a place where they feel as if they can hide from the world if need be, a place that they can say, “I started dreaming about my future here.”

I want them to be able to have that secret hideout or tree house or special spot.

Most importantly, I want a sanctuary for myself — a place that is uniquely and wholly mine. One that has my color on the walls, the pictures of our family history spread out for visitors to see — my things in the closet and my books on the shelves.

I want a great kitchen, because we all know that is where families spend most of their time. I want one with a bar overlooking a huge living room.

I can’t wait to have my own yard, even though I don’t own a lawn mower and will probably do a fantastic job in killing anything of a floral variety that I attempt to grow.

I hear about how families have annual gatherings at the family homestead and know that one day I will be able to give that to my children and myself.

I’m getting a late start on that, but hey, better late than never.

So Tuesday morning, before I started my day, I did what I do every morning. I grabbed a cup of coffee and scanned the day’s headlines.

For some reason, something told me to check my horoscope.

It said, “Something might be pushing you to rush, but you have more time than you know.”

In its explanation it said that this is not the best time to make major purchases — I am almost certain to get a better deal if I waited a little longer.

Guess there’s my answer.

I better wait.

Maybe those interest prices will drop again.