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| Derelict house Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico. September 2013. |
When I embark on a house hunting search, I consult various sources, including craigslist, hotpads, apartments.com, real estate property managers, zillow, and online forums.
During my Tucson search, a forum responder proposed that I had filet mignon expectations on a hamburger budget.
I burst into laughter upon reading this.
My last place - I didn't even have a stove. I called it my French kitchen, a kitchen comprised of components:
- A borrowed toaster oven
- A borrowed electric skillet
- A folding table for a counter, borrowed
Heheheheh.
Filet mignon! The idea!
Well, wait.
I did have filet mignon there:
- Well-aged wood floors gentled with a soft patina
- The wash of daylight that bathed my 1970s shower and tub, a luxury compared to the space capsule in my El Paso apartment
- A garage! First ever in my adult life! Did it matter that it was in the basement and three flights of stairs going down AND coming up? No! A garage!
- The red fox that visited the big blue dumpsters one morning, licking sweet remains from a slippery plastic wrap
- Congenial neighbors
- An easy walk to the grocery store or library, beneath mature trees and alongside bursting yellow, orange, white, and indigo flower gardens
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| Bathroom, Ferguson, Missouri. November 2017. |
And in Opelousas:
- Lovely light that streamed through tall, old windows
- A lush spring-flowering tree outside a window, which a melodious mockingbird called home
- A gentleman neighbor who spent many a day babysitting his young grandsons, and who accompanied me on occasion to the local casino for a bit of dancing
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| Opelousas apartment. Opelousas, Louisiana. April 2015. |
Hamburger budget?
Dude, I've got a chicken liver budget.
Fortunately, I love chicken livers.
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