I Really Won't Look In Your Medicine Cabinet. Promise.

I've written before about my strange obsession with "House Hunters" on HGTV. And I've mentioned that within the first full minute of an episode - if it's a re-run - I can call it: "That's the couple that ended up in a Craftsman cottage," or "That's the guy whose grandmother was his realtor and on the way into the first house he looked at, she tripped on a stepping stone and said, 'HELP ME! I'll kill myself!'"

So I've seen an episode or nine, is all I'm sayin'.

Well, when I read this post at Melanie's blog, I knew
exactly which episode of "HH" she was talking about. Down to the couple's outfits. And then I wondered: why don't I quit watching? I've seen all of them. I know which house they're going to choose. Why can't I quit my "House Hunters" habit?

Part of it has to do with what I mentioned in the post from February. I'm Southern. Southern people like seeing people's houses. We like sitting on people's porches. We like being invited into people's living rooms and finding big glasses of sweet tea waiting on the coffee table. We can't help it. It's like saying "y'all" or eating grits - it's part of who we are.

But the bigger part, I think, is that for me, the inside of a house - and whether it's 700 or 7,000 square feet is totally irrelevant - is a reflection of a person's personality. So I'll just go ahead and tell you - though this may scare you and send you fleeing from this little corner of the interweb so quickly that your monitor will have tread marks - I find it impossible to talk to someone or read her blog without forming a picture in my head of where she lives.

You may need a moment to process the deeply disturbing nature of that last sentence.

Yes, even though I've never, you know, visited their homes, I have a mental image (completely fabricated, of course) of where Sarah lives, where Addie lives, where Robin lives, where fill-in-the-blank lives - and it's based on absolutely nothing other than my perception of their personalities.

Please don't leave.

I mean, that's weird. Right? It's weird. I know it is.

Allow me to continue to humiliate myself.

In my head, everybody lives somewhere perfectly lovely. I rarely meet someone in real life or read someone's blog and picture them living in a less-than-desirable conditions. I do picture various degrees of home decor - some plain, some minimal, some contemporary, some traditional, some eclectic - but in my mind everybody lives in a safe, secure home that's a perfect reflection of their personality and values.

So I'll get even more specific and REALLY scare you.

- I imagine that Diane has lots of beautiful old quilts scattered around. She loves hearth and home, loves her family, and she strikes me as a person who would see a quilt as a treasure - something to be handed down from generation to generation.
- I imagine that Lauren has a place for everything and everything in its place. Her blog is so pretty and functional and orderly that I can't help but think that her house is, too.
- I imagine that Brenda doesn't like a lot of frou-frou stuff in her house. There's no lace there (at least in my head). And because she always has gorgeous photography on her blog, I picture her house as being tastefully minimal so that the pictures are showcased.

Oh, I could go on. And on. And on. But then you might notify some sort of mental health agency that there's this woman? In Alabama? With some SERIOUS issues. In need of some SERIOUS help.

But I'm thinking that there has to be at least one of you who does this, too.

Please?

And Happy 4th of July, by the way.

You may now judge me in the comments. Freely.