Well, Steve, Bill & I have taken the plunge. We've up and moved into an actual house from our 1 bedroom apartment where we shared an XL Twin bed. Bill & I would sleep head to toe with Steve wedging his way in between us with his butt right in Bill's face. Bill didn't like it at first, but I think he got used to it, and he's having a hard time adjusting in the new house with his own room & bed. He'll survive. I think.
In any case, we're all moved into the new house. It's set in a quaint, post-war era neighborhood, where a stroll in the park across the street reminds one of the days of past innocence where your neighbors actually knew your name and AM radio was the evening entertainment. A flashback to the days when people actually cared about each other.
Last night, after a hard day's labor in finally unpacking the rest of our belongings and debating their rightful places in the house, Bill & I decided that we are in love...with the new house (not THAT!!!). The extra space affords each of us the opportunity to get away from each other and "do our own thing". We also decided to get rid of the devil-incarnate cable box and go with broadcast TV. To be honest, I don't miss it one bit. We'll still be able to watch football on the weekends, and since the TV is in the basement, we'll be able to watch from our sweet dive bar in the basement, complete with wood paneling and 70's "velva-print" posters. Here's a pic:
Steve loves the new house too. There's plenty of sinks for him to lay in and now he doesn't have to wedge in between anybody to put his butt in Bill's face. We went outside yesterday and I don't think he liked it so much. Birds just fly away when you try to lay down next to them butt-to-beak.
The only negative aspect of the house is the park across the street. The park itself isn't a negative, in fact it's a neutral entity - neither good nor bad. I mean the teenage hoodlums that have adopted the spot directly across the street from our house as their own little weed-smoking haven. The pre-owned (slightly used!) hypodermic needles they leave in the play-area next to it give it that sense of unpredictability regarding whether or not you'll contract an STD on any given day. It's an adventure, but at least it keeps me on my toes - primarily because I stepped on one with my heel the other day and it hurts to walk on it now.
I guess I've found a new way to pass the time - I'm calling my city council-people (sarcastic PC-term!!) and calling the cops on these kids every chance I get, because I'm determined to make my neighbors like me. I think it's a good start to hopefully a long stay at a new home.
