House Sweet Home

I've just returned from three weeks of vacation.  It was wonderful and interesting and loads of fun.  However, I have returned with a nasty head cold, back pain, and overwhelming exhaustion.  Such is life.  And as a fun addition we have been nicely evicted from the corporate apartment we've been living in for the last six months.  This means that not only did I have to pack my suitcases, but my whole domain before we left and have returned to a place that is entirely new to me.  I don't know where anything is and I am counting my lucky stars that the former resident/landlord left us a bed and some other crucial home necessities.

Which brings me to the house.  HOUSE, people.  Not only is it one of my favorite television dramas, it's also the best kind of place to live.  I'll admit that apartment living can at times be more convenient, and definitely less expensive, but it is never as nearly luxurious.  It has me pining for one of my own again and I thought that would take three times the amount of calendar days that have passed for me to say it out loud again.

The sitch: landlord is in the process of selling this place and subsidizing her losses by letting us pathetic folk live in it on a month to month basis until it sells.  The rent is cheap, the living is large, and I no longer have to cover my ears when I hear the neighbors while wondering, "what the hell is going on up there?!"  Sharing walls is so uncivilized.  Human beings need more space and ample amounts more privacy.

Anyway, the highlight of living here besides grass (grass! We didn't even have this in our own home!) is that the garage is attached to the home.  This means that I can park my car about 30 feet from where I sleep.  That's the dream, people.

Landlord lady (who is actually probably younger and significantly more well adjusted than me) has left little reminders of her presence over the past five years.  A few nails in the wall, a scuff on the door, faded fingerprints on the thermostat, and things of the like.  It's really sweet because I remembered as I packed up my own home after three years of living in it that all of these little imperfections symbolized the life we had had there.  It made me feel really sentimental and although we don't have children and our milestones are not yet that significant, I thought of my neighbor telling me that when she left her last home all she pictured as she walked out was her kids all taking their first steps in the living room in a way that was reminiscent of that scene in You've Got Mail when Meg Ryan closes her book shop and pictures her twirling with her mother.  Landlord lady told me that she was sentimental about selling this place because it was her first house.  For her sake I hope it sells soon, but for our sake I want to stay forever.  I'm in love.

And just maybe I'll get over my bitterness of owning a home and bite the bullet again someday.  I love it here.