i returned a few days ago from house/dog sitting at my friend margie’s.
home sweet home.
what’s not sweet about 290 square feet?
what’s not sweet about returning home to the 92degree apartment…literally?
what’s not sweet about the “freezer” to my dorm frig in desperate need of defrosting…at least if you want to shut the door?
what’s not sweet about the window unit that totally cools the futon…and that’s about it?
what’s not sweet about the basil i didn’t even have to apply artificial heat in order to get the rich aroma of the plant…simply leaving it inside the afore mentioned 92degree apartment?
what’s not sweet about being permanently camped out on the couch in front of the fan…not even wanting to venture to the bathroom?
i mean, really, who would trade this for…
central air–that can be felt in every room of the house?
a view of pasadena and the san gabriel valley?
helicopter-less early mornings or late nights?
a double oven?
refrigerator with a freezer?
basil plant that looks just like it did when purchased–rather than the charred/wilted look of my own?
sleeping outdoors–and it actually feeling cooler than the 92degree interior of my apartment?
an island from which to prepare meals?
about 10x more square footage?
i saw this piece of flair the evening i entered my sweet abode.
it made me think of the comparison. but i would have to say that it is definitely not true in this instance because i’ve felt the grass…
yet, 316 is still home sweet home…albeit withered and rather warm.