I like the tall ceilings and the wavy glass in the old windows. It's funny to look out the window and see the backyard rippling. But I don't like the cracking plaster and the faulty plumbing and electricity. I don't like sharing one bathroom with five other people and I hate it that the dogs have to stay in a tiny pen.
I like the brick streets in our neighborhood, but I don't like the way our bumper always scrapes when we back out of the driveway. I like seeing people out and about on the streets, but sometimes I wish we had a little more privacy. I'm not used to people looking at me while I'm standing in my own backyard.
I like the shutters and the shape of the windows. I don't like the walled-up porch. I like the old doorknobs and the white brick walls in the basement. I don't like the pink bathtub and the tacky kitchen cupboards and the dark green stick-on tiles.
I like walking to the library with Sam, but I don't like passing the house where the people yell at each other. I do like the yellow house across from us where Fern and her husband live. They've been married for more than sixty years, and they've lived in the little yellow house for fifty of those. It's been yellow all that time. And I like that. I really really do.