Soul-sucking: Town house living ain’t for me

We’ve moved into my grandparents’ home circa 1967 (the last time the Leafs won the cup).

The walls are cigarette yellow, the plants are overgrown, but I got Internet.

We love this neighbourhood, and will do our fiscally-able best to improve the place.

Living in a townhouse is convenient, but soul-sucking.

Where I live and write, the place has to have soul.