just call me miss fancy pants

When I moved to this town we would zip our sleeping bags together and sleep out beneath the fireflies in a lovely empty lot that later became the chamber of commerce building (open to tourists and developers, alike).

Then we got a little space, practically a studio and usually there were at least four or five of us together. Once there was nine, if you count M- who lived in his car. Sometimes friends pitched a tent outide our window in the five feet of lawn.

It was nice.

Mostly.

A lot has passed and changed and grown up and changed again. I've gotten jobs and traveled and tried to save the world or maybe just myself. I got my own place, just a little space, enough for a couch and a mini-fridge and mini-oven and loud stereo and all that art everywhere.

It was nice.

Mostly.

And then I got real, real sick and I found out that I was living out the story of the princess and the pea. Only the mattress was my apartment and the pea was dark sticky, flaky mold that crawled in my lungs and slept while I couldn't.

So I moved.

And now I'm in this huge place. This fancy, pretty place. Resting still, and getting stronger. I have a full kitchen and a bathroom and 3 closets. Two bedrooms and a livingroom suitable for a waltz of perhaps a squaredance, someday. I've got a dining room and a laundry room and a porch, all my own.

And it's nice...