we found a place.
And boy have we been looking. Combing craigslist ads. Visiting multiple houses or apartments a day…stretching from West Oakland to El Cerrito. Our standards were: 2 bedrooms, (way) under 1500.
I’d almost given up hope.
I’d almost hoped to give up hope. My house is so comfortable, so familiar. I recently planted the flower boxes, and my life has been consumed with new job and annual festival of my existence. I turn 25 this week.
This morning my life was flashing before my eyes, in a way it never has before. Yesterday g. and I crammed a weekend’s worth of activities into one day and were hardly awake enough to appreciate it. Unrelated, perhaps, but my mind found today a challenge beyond any other. More apt than running around would be to lay in bed remembering what might have been and what was never likely. Such a glorious and romantically depressing endeavor.
Today, life had me. A coffee shop had me, my bed had me, and then this place had me. And we’ll take it, thank you very much. With its amazing curved ceilings, skylight, fireplace and endearingly small kitchen. It’s one bedroom, lofted second bedroom and tricolored walls. A co-op apartment with more character than any co-op apartment I might work to support. We had no choice.
I had no choice. I can see my cat happy there, fat. Lazing around on its cat bed, disturbed only–and vastly entertained–by the moving lights our mirrored chandelier will one day provide. The yard is fenced; he’ll have feline friends. I see him, I see me, I see my sister. And we are a happy and contributing portion of this strange dome-shaped cooperative-like apartment building a lovely walk, bike or bus ride away from 19th Street BART.
And I just can’t wait.