A -House- of One's Own
With windows, and doors, and walls, and plumbing, and rooms, and a yard, and oh my god, I'm about to own my own house.
I'm changing locales in August - I've known that since I moved to New Orleans to start work, three weeks before Katrina. Two years have -flown- by, and sometime in March, I started seriously considering the impending move back ( Read more... )
I'm changing locales in August - I've known that since I moved to New Orleans to start work, three weeks before Katrina. Two years have -flown- by, and sometime in March, I started seriously considering the impending move back ( Read more... )
They've had the house on the mainland for three years, and the only reason Rodney doesn't hijack the jumper and leave John there is because he's gotten used to cold feet tangling with his every night. Still, Rodney barely manages not to stalk out of the two-room hovel-but-okay-a-vacation-hovel when, early in the morning, a furry-cold-nosed-and-despite-that-clearly-not-John wakes him up by licking his face. Once the immediate terror recedes, he focuses on John, who's incandescent with please-please-he-followed-me-home joy, which, Rodney swears, is the only reason he caves, muttering, "you're lucky you're cute." They both know he doesn't mean the puppy.
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Congrats again on the homestead!
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