I’ve mentioned that recently (two months, now) that we took in another roommate who was in a dangerous spot.

Our apartment is a two bedroom, one and a half bath townhouse. Trust me, “townhouse,” makes it sound kinda swanky. Swanky, it is not. Vickie is sleeping on an air mattress in our livingroom.

The three of us are aiming for moving into a three bedroom house. Vickie and I want the freedom of not sharing walls with neighbors, having a yard and outside faucets. A fenced yard would be great for the poochie. Rose isn’t so keen on yard work.

Right now, because of my auto accident, we only have two incomes. I’ve been surviving on Go Fund Me donations, which I am tremendously grateful for. It’s also a really expensive time to be hunting for any kind of domicile. COVID messed up the world on every level. Our, well my lease, because I’m the only person on it, is up on December 31st. And this year it’s finally up because I’ve been living here on a rolling five year lease in this dump of an apartment that is a couple of steps above slum, since 2016. Being on such a lease hasn’t kept the slumlord from raising the rent every year except one.

I truly want a financial miracle. I want to be in a good quality home so bad.

I’m very happy to have Vickie here because she has tremendously helped with cleaning and re-organizing. Before she arrived, my living situation was one that sucked all the energy to do that right out of me. It’s great to have someone who likes a clean, organized home. Sometimes my shoulder, and various surgeries interferes with completing household cleaning, but I still try. Vickie is having her own orthopedic issues. As soon as we get her insurance for next year, I’m taking her to see Dr. H.

With, Vickie, came her little dog, Bo, who she found wandering and looking homeless in her old neighborhood. So, she rescued him.

It’s kind of odd caring for and living with a dog. I love them and all, but I’m a cat person; I love cat antics. They are such humorous critters. So, it’s taking some time to get used to taking him for walks and sitting outside while he pokes around in the front yard. I admit that I am enjoying the communes with the outside.

He’s a sweet little dog. I’ve heard him bark once, and Dear God, how can anyone not fall for that furry face? Vickie had taken him to the vet for a check up, and she learned that he’s probably not quite two. She’s planning on taking him to get fixed.

It’s 3:08 pm in Central Florida and we’re on our second commune with the front yard. Besides doing a load of laundry this will probably be the extent of my physical activity today.

I messed up my still healing shoulder last night reaching into my closet for a hanger. I keep performing movements that my shoulder doesn’t like. I was just talking to Vickie on the phone (she’s at work) and I told her that the fracture wasn’t so horrible that I needed a constant reminder about how to limit my shoulder activity-like a cast, or always wearing a sling. The hanger reaching made it real difficult to fall asleep last night, and today it’s making it painful to raise a coffee mug to my lips. I guess I need to switch to my non-dominant hand. It’s hard to remember to reach out with my left hand or arm, though.

It’s 3:38 pm. It looks like The Little Shit wants to go back inside.