I'm supposed to be writing a paper

But I can't really start it. So I'm just going to ramble on and blogpost. And I really need to work on not relying on passive verbs. So here goes:

Last night was an incredible start to a Scottsdale Autumn. The temperature peaked at 78 and rain scattered over our roof multiple times during the day. 
I love having a flat roof; the sound of the rain, mild or deafening, is very relaxing. You can always tell when it's raining or when a dust storm is raging past. I've only ever heard rain in this fashion.
We opened the doors and windows.  The wind blew in gusts which sent our wind-chime clanging.  It takes a substantial amount of wind to get the chime to sing.  It's made of triangualr rusted iron panels and sounds very melancholy.  In the midst of booming thunder and the static rain sounds overhead, I can hear the chime erratically striking the flatted notes.

Okay, I think I got that down. I want to continue about the day:

I did homework (sort of) and then got ready for my first SBC college group small group. 
I haven't been in a small group in months, and the whole idea of going back to Bible study puts me on edge, considering the incident in January.
My phone's GPS wasn't working, so I just studied the map and thought I could rely on my internal navigation skills.
I could not find the lady's house. How embarrasing. It was dark, lightning was flashing, and I was making multiple 3-point turns because my car has the turning radius of Texas. 
Sometimes there were house numbers listed, and sometimes only faint painted numbers could be seen on the concrete gutter on the street.  So there I was, inching along in my car with my face pressed to the window trying to read the tiny house numbers aided by the sporadic illumination of sodium-vapor streetlights.
Finally I found the house and walked up. It was then when I felt like I had stepped back in time. I got this bristling feeling on my scalp and it threw me for a loop.
I know this house. I've been here many times.
When I walked in, I couldn't help but take notice of all the tiny details that might match up to any indication of familiarity.
I know it's a track-home, but the floor plan fits the exact dimension.
The green carpet is gone. There's a keyboard in the living room on the north wall; I remember an upright piano sitting in that exact spot. New homeowners who have toured a home sometimes take ideas of where to put furniture based on the staging. Not a coincidence.
The oven, refrigerator, and sink are all in the same spot, the chandelier looks very familiar. Most people don't bring their chandeliers with them when they leave. But is it the same one?
Everything has been remodled. Travertine floors in the house, instead of cream-colored tile with grey grout. 
The maple bookcase is gone. Was that original? Probably not. Must have been heavy to move though.
The fireplace is in the same spot. There are sliding glass doors leading to the patio, just like the last time I was here. Wouldn't these homes usually have french doors?
There is a pool. There has always been a pool. But this is the first time I've been in the backyard so I have nothing to compare it to.
The lady mentioned moving here about 2 years ago. It fits!

So I'm doing this Sherlock-esque categorizing as I walk through the house to meet the small group in the backyard. I crack myself up.

It was pouring when I left that night.  I paused at the front door to inspect the glass mosaic-inlay; I just know it's the house...I know it.

I can never shut my mind off at night and I couldn't remember the house address of the family. I needed to do some fact-checking.
I combed through the recesses of my mind to remember the husband's name.  A few clicks on google and the old owner's name/address pops up.

9746--It's the same house!
It's kind of eerie to be a visitor in the same house, but with different owners. They completely remodled the interior of the house, mainly kitchen, living room, and great room.  There's still this connection to the previous owners, but only I share this. It just lives on in my head and in my feelings. Completely bizzare.