We Linguinis are very civilized people, in spite of that fact that we have, temporarily at least, hit the skids.
And when I say "skids," I don't mean to devalue where we have found ourselves. Considering we had two days to find somewhere to live that would accept us and our dogs, this is really not so bad. In fact, I would go so far as to say we were downright lucky.
As we clear out more and more boxes (ahem...I swear we only got boxes at the liquor store. I haven't reached the point of needing to buy by the case -- yet), I'm starting to enjoy living here. Dirtman did me the favor of wandering about the yard to take pictures of what we have to work with.
This house used to be owned by our landlord/neighbor's great aunt and it shows lots of signs that it was loved. There's no getting around the fact, though, that it's small for four adults and I choose to treat it as a lesson in cooperation. And I will keep repeating that over and over and over and over until -- well -- I'm ordering vodka by the case.
But then, of course, we are the neighborhood renters so no welcome wagon for us, I'm afraid. Therefore, I choose to consider it their loss because we're fun people, dammit. We really are. We eat that fish and are fun. Only occasionally do I go off on the inbred mutant population that crawls out of the nicotine washed atmosphere of their decaying double-wides to park their skin-tight-tank-top-over-cellulite-clad bodies in front of my face.
But, alas, poor Gnorm. Seems he's been followed here by whatever evil spirt plagued him in The House That Shall No Longer Be Named.