Hovel Sweet Hovel

The day Nuboss picked me up from the airport, he drove me around campus (and got me thoroughly confused) then brought me to the apartment where I would be living. It was unprepossessing, to say the least. Still, the rent is low, and I have a paycheck, so beggars can't be choosers.

Nuboss opened the door and shut off the alarm system. ("This dump has an alarm system?" I wondered to myself.) The living room has a dark, wooden floor and a long closet -- but there was no furniture and no door to the closet. The kitchen has new vinyl flooring, a new washer/dryer, and a new refrigerator. The stove (electric) is harvest gold, which tells you how old it is. The cabinets are cheap plywood with a honey colored finish and black handles that tell you how old they are. The countertop is a bluish green laminate with a metal edge, which confirms just how old the kitchen is. (Contrasted with the kitchen I left in Las Cruces, I was about ready to turn around and leave.) The bathroom is serviceable, but the tub is permanently stained. (Yes, a tub mat was one of the first things I bought.) The bedroom also has a wood floor and a large closet without a door. However, it had furniture: one, twin bed taken from one of the dorms.

"What do you think?" Nuboss asked me.

"May I have something to sit on?" was my reply.

Once I borrowed furniture from storage (in the building conveniently next door), the place is usable and habitable. Nothing matches, but let's call it eclectic. I found out I'll be allowed to take care of my yard, but I'm not going to do anything extravagant because it won't be kept up after I leave. My first tasks, actually, aren't planting flowers (even though that would be like trying to hide acne with makeup). First, I need to prune the tree branches so I can actually use the sidewalk, and I need to dig out those two old, tire "planters" a previous resident placed in the yard.