My house the trading post has been dead for some time, indicated by zero visitors. I love my house and hate my house. I love my life and hate my life. But what is important?

The people who live in this house are important to me. The grandchildren who play here now are all that matters. The grandchildren love this house. The oldest has grand plans for this house. I admit I’ve been grooming him to take interest in the old building. What will become of the old place when I’m gone?

The house is in my husband’s name, he owned it long before I came. He painted the walls, he selected the appliances, he put love into it and made this old trading post a viable home and business. A fragile building, registered as commercial property.

Later, I’ll tell you why I hate this place, like because it is too big to clean. Yes, I will tell you more, later.