There's No Place Like. . .
Finding a new house had proved to be -- somewhat more difficult than first expected. First off, there were discussions on where in the city they should move. The suburbs? In the city proper? In the end, they finally decided to stay at least somewhat near downtown -- even if one of their group could turn into a car, and another fly, there was no point in making supply runs longer than they needed to be.
And then there were discussions on the sort of house they were going to get. Marty, Doc, and Dee were all in favor of some place with a garage. Marty and Victor wanted a music room (Victor in particular wanted to find some place with a piano already on the premises). Dee wanted a room of her own that she could decorate however she wanted (Marty joked about her hanging hubcaps on the wall). Doc wanted a large kitchen where he could recreate his old breakfast maker. Alice weighed in with the suggestion that there should be a spare bedroom for guests and not for music or tinkering (Victor seconded it, as they knew he would). And everyone agreed that there should be at least three bathrooms.
And then, there was trying to find a house that met all of these specifications. At first, they were fairly optimistic that one would be found. Chicago was a big city, after all -- there had to be the perfect house for them somewhere in there. Right?
After week two, Doc was starting to think they had it pretty good where they were and what the hell was he thinking trying to leave.
Eventually, though, the perfect place was located. Six bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms, a garage, a big kitchen, and a spare room that seemed perfect for making music. Everyone agreed that it was damn near perfect. (They also agreed that it was good thing they didn't have to pay for it.) Their things were moved in with relative ease, and all was well. Except for one detail.
The place didn't have a piano.
Fortunately, "borrowing" a truck to transport the one from their old apartments was quite easy. (Getting it into and out of the truck, not so much, but still. . . .)
And then there were discussions on the sort of house they were going to get. Marty, Doc, and Dee were all in favor of some place with a garage. Marty and Victor wanted a music room (Victor in particular wanted to find some place with a piano already on the premises). Dee wanted a room of her own that she could decorate however she wanted (Marty joked about her hanging hubcaps on the wall). Doc wanted a large kitchen where he could recreate his old breakfast maker. Alice weighed in with the suggestion that there should be a spare bedroom for guests and not for music or tinkering (Victor seconded it, as they knew he would). And everyone agreed that there should be at least three bathrooms.
And then, there was trying to find a house that met all of these specifications. At first, they were fairly optimistic that one would be found. Chicago was a big city, after all -- there had to be the perfect house for them somewhere in there. Right?
After week two, Doc was starting to think they had it pretty good where they were and what the hell was he thinking trying to leave.
Eventually, though, the perfect place was located. Six bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms, a garage, a big kitchen, and a spare room that seemed perfect for making music. Everyone agreed that it was damn near perfect. (They also agreed that it was good thing they didn't have to pay for it.) Their things were moved in with relative ease, and all was well. Except for one detail.
The place didn't have a piano.
Fortunately, "borrowing" a truck to transport the one from their old apartments was quite easy. (Getting it into and out of the truck, not so much, but still. . . .)