If you've just bought a house, you may be able to relate to a fascinating essay in Maya Angelou's book, Even the Stars Look Lonesome.When Ms. Angelou moved into a designer house in California, she says, nothing worked. Her pictures didn't look right on the walls. Cakes fell in the oven and curtains fell off the rods.The house, she concluded, hated her. And it wasn't much consolation to realize the house hated her husband, too.What I want to know is, how could she tell?Let's face it, most houses .