Saved!

When I posted about moving to the Super 8 Motel, it looked like things couldn't get any worse. But the Super 8 was like the Four Seasons compared with where we went next.

I found this place on Craig's List that Jim and I call The Flop House. It called itself a hotel, but it was really more of a hostel. Shared kitchens and bathrooms. Tiny rooms. But always conversations to be had in hallways and in the common areas with lodgers of all ilks. The place wouldn't have been so terrible if we weren't trying to cram enough stuff to support a family of three into a miniscule space. And if the doors weren't so badly hung that they dragged across the carpet whenever you opened them.

After 10 days of flopping, we got the best imaginable offer! Celia and Jim invited us to house sit at their fantabulous downtown loft! They weren't the first friends to offer up their home to us, but they were the first with a) enough space so that stuff + us + unpredictable baby wouldn't be massively in the way and b) who would not be there anyway and so would not be putting our friendship in jeopardy because — let's face it — guests and unwashed babies smell after three days.

House sitting sounds so much better than crashing. We will be forever indebted to our loft-dwelling friends!

I leave you with the view from the roof-top deck this evening. It's a moody sky.