We're in Mayberry (or Mount Airy, for real)

It is now noon, and the kids and I are still sitting in the motel room, waiting for our wandering Ed to come home. He went off to look around and do a little laundry while we played in the pool, and he met a little old lady at the washing machines who told him that she had lived in Mount Airy all her life and really liked it. That was apparently good enough for Ed, and he came back to the hotel, booked us for an extra night, and went back out to visit the Episcopal Church and see if they could offer him any leads on houses (and no, that is not the first place I think of when I'm house hunting either). He is hoping to find a more "in town" house than the second one we looked at yesterday, and also a newer house that wouldn't need any modifications. (And if he knew about the second tick I just found, he'd be looking for houses with cement lawns.) We aren't quite on the same page when it comes to dream houses, since he would be happier with a small house on a small lot that was new and wouldn't take any work, and I want space. I will be interested to see what he has discovered when he gets back! (He already found one of the houses I'd seen on Realtor.com, which happened to be located right next to the tourist attraction Mayberry fake jail. I don't think I ever saw a whole episode of the Andy Griffith Show, but apparently being "the birthplace" is this town's claim to fame. Ed called from the church to say he'd been lost, but the pretend drunks in the pretend jail had given him directions.)