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…first married Christmas…

Sitting in the corner, my wife puts together a doll house.

I don’t know how many Christmas’ ago she got the house, but she picked it up out of the attic in her parent’s house and has all the pieces strewn across the bed and the floor.

Piece by piece, she snaps the house together.

“Maybe this is why I like England so much,” she said. “The house is Victorian after all.”

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