Two months ago we found a house that I desperately wanted to rent. It was quaint and had a big yard and a bathroom that I could live with (I am ridiculously fussy about bathrooms, they are the only room that must be tidy at all times), plus it had plenty of room to accommodate our three cats who may or may not decide to get along. Alas the VEB wasn’t so enamored, and while I tried to convince him of its charms we wound up losing the place to someone else. I was disappointed, but I could not deny that it was at the top end of the price range we had discussed. And, I had the sense to know that we needed to find a place we both liked, and that if I really pressured the VEB he would wind up hating the place. So, we kept looking. And looking. What ensued over the next weeks was a blur of apartments, all of which were too small with terrible bathrooms and questionable neighbors (not to mention a few questionable landlords). Every now and again we’d wind up driving by the house I loved and I’d pout about it being MY house, and it wasn’t too long before the VEB began to see that maybe I was right. I’m not sure if he was swayed by my pouting or the other bad apartments, but at the time it was moot. Somebody else got my house, and that was all that mattered.
Still, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that I was supposed to live there.
On Saturday morning the VEB was in the other room at his computer when I heard him shouting, asking me to guess what place was listed again. It was my house! The look on his face was a mixture of surprise and disbelief, mixed with a tinge of “Oh crap, I never should have conceded that it was probably the perfect place for us.” Indeed. And within five minutes I was emailing the landlord; the lease with the other people had fallen through, and I lickety-split filled out the application. While there are a few i’s to dot and t’s to cross, we should be all set with a lease in the next day or two. !!!!!!!!!!!!
Having declared victory of sorts (I KNEW I was going to live in that house one way or another, dammit), we decided to go to Salem for the afternoon. I don’t know why, but I’ve been wanting to go for a couple of years. We thought it would be a good place to go take pictures, but oddly? It kind of wasn’t. We had a nice lunch and a long walk – it’s bigger than you might think – but we didn’t find ourselves becoming enamored with the place. A TON of money has been poured into the downtown area, and there’s lots of revitalization that has happened…normally I’m all for that, but in a weird way the character of the place has been altered. Even though the history is still there, it’s drowning in touristy shops selling “magickal” things and offering authentic psychic readings. The VEB teased me about the latter, because few weeks ago I happened to meet someone who is, among other things, a medium. I didn’t know that, of course; there was a conversation about songs on the radio, and I just happened to remark about how I’d been hearing REM constantly on the radio since Tom (the ex boyfriend) died. She then told me what she does for a living, and said that Tom was there and wanted to say thank you for all I did for him. Also, she said that he’s with me at night, which I found disturbing even though it might explain why the cat has taken to yowling at the ceiling for no reason.
Did I mention the new house is on Thompson Street?
It was a lovely and warm spring afternoon and we hiked out along a little jetty in the harbor. Once again the VEB was wearing his Cthulu t-shirt and during our walk received many compliments, several from young men dressed as pirates. (There’s a pirate museum in Salem, so it’s not quite as weird as it might seem.) We circled back and wandered through an historic cemetery, and then I proceeded to get into a strange argument with a barrista at a local coffee shop about not wanting sugar in an iced coffee. Why is this weird? The sugar doesn’t dissolve, I don’t like crunchy coffee, the end.
Anyway, here are a few sights from the day:
Hell is eternity spent shaded by Coke umbrellas?