No, it's not the garage. In the old south, it would have been called a garconniere, and been a hideaway for the eldest son of the family. In the 20th century, things like this were sometimes called "mother-in-law houses". Whatever you want to call it, I love it. Take that covering off the porch and it would be perfect for me. I wonder if the owner would like to adopt a crotchety old uncle?
Who needs New York? Why be jostled by a crowd no one in his right mind would trust when you could have a fun night in a pleasant little town along a beautiful lake? Port Clinton, Ohio, doesn't drop a big ball on New Year's Eve. That's boring. They drop a 20 ft. walleye. Now do you see why I like Ohio?
"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring; renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king.”