I do not know what your strange egg might have been for you, but for me it is a sack of garden fertilizer, a packet of seeds, and a very strange fruit. I am busy knocking together a new pot almost as I write.
I am sorry that you cannot give me any time, but I think I have stabilized the house for now. I have managed to acquire and install a very used stove and refrigerator set, and thus have shored up the kitchen. It felt like the right first step. The kitchen, where food is made, seems almost the heart of the house, so perhaps I will not need so much time as I thought.
I am very amused by your peaches. I have received them as pears, along with a pinkish crystal with the words “peach” scratched into the bottom as identification. It seems that there will be no peaches for me.
I continue to build things. I now have chairs and a table, though I could have sworn I did before. I also bought an oil lamp at the flea market, which does not require electricity.
When I wrote you last I was having a panic attack. I get them sometimes.
I have something even more unexpected than anything else: a friend. Well, another friend. I try to keep going to school, and one Sabrina Holcomb, my classmate, sometimes comes over to visit. She lives in a normal house, not a house like ours, and so this house fascinates her. She has an eye for fine things. She tells me this was a fine house, once.
I like her.