Holy cow! I just noticed my childhood home is on the market. My parents sold the house about 7 years ago and I swear it was the worst day of my life! It's funny how we get attached to houses. It took me awhile to realize it's not the house itself that I missed, it's everything that happened inside. And I can take all those great memories with me anywhere I go. Still, I've had recurring dreams about going back and sneaking into my old house and just looking around. Now that it's back on the market, I can take a peak back inside. It was weird enough emptying the place out when my parents sold it but it's even weirder to see other peoples stuff in there.
Some things the next buyer does not know:
- The house is totally haunted (I SWEAR!)
- Buried outside the kitchen window are: a bunny rabbit, my dog 'Midget', and I don't even know how many cats.
Liv, Mom, Midget

- Somewhere in the walls of that house there is a dead boa constrictor, several pet mice, and maybe a lizard or two.
Aaron, Nik and the boa

- The house was painted with cheap child labor (only after said children scraped off the old LEAD paint with blow torches and scrapers. I think I was six when I was handed my first blow torch. Aaahh, those were the days).

- The kitchen sink has seen it's fair share of naked butts (okay, this particular sink was long ago replaced but I couldn't resist this
AdORAbLe picture of my bro).
Aaron

I really don't miss the old house anymore. I had a fabulous childhood and have a ton of memories from inside those walls. But I've realized, especially since I've been married, that your home isn't the house itself, it's wherever your family is. Cliche, I know, but so true.