Our House

Josey and I live in a condo called "Quail Village." (I think I'm cosmically drawn to animal villages because in Korea, I lived in "Squirrel Village.")

The condo set has tennis courts and a pool, and there's a creek, park, and jogging/bike trail just around the corner. It's a very ethnically diverse neighborhood with Pakistani/Indian restaurants, Tejano clubs, tons of Mexican restaurants, and sizeable Chinatowns and Koreatowns to the north and south. The other dominant population of people are the homeless/insane/beggars that live across the street. I can hear them yelling on most days.

Quail Village is a set of condos filled mostly with old people. I've met a few neighbors and they've been absolutely delightful. There's even a "condo gossip" named Linda that makes the old men neighbors roll their eyes at the mere mention of her name.

Here is the entryway:

Filled with things to get rid of.

Living room:Stairs:Kitchen:Patio off kitchen: It's about twice this size. Hopefully, we'll grow a garden.

My room:

I have a huge closet that runs about half the length of the room. It's so big, I thought about putting my desk in there, but it gets really hot.

View out my window:

Josey's huge room:

That is one ubiquitous dog.

Since real estate companies are weird in that they want their tenants to be A) employed and B) making decent money rather than living off their meager savings, we had to tell some whoppers to get this house. It involved one of Andy's friends pretending that we worked for him and made lots of money doing so. Though I don't generally support lying, it was totally worth it so I didn't have to live with Hairy Andy and the Vegetarians anymore.

Quail Village is definitely the nicest place I've ever lived, and though I was initially made nervous by the homeless pot smokers across the street, I'm becoming familiar with the usuals. In fact, I figure I should start befriending them, seeing as I will soon become one of them if I don't find a job soon.