Movin' on up...

I rented a house.

It’s in an old mining town, or it used to be, anyway. It’s kind of quirky, but it has three bedrooms, a cute little yard and a porch for flowers. It sits on a hill and the front opens up into the mountain and the back overlooks a ghost town filled with little mining shacks. There are only about 400 people in the valley and most of them are miners.

There’s gold in them there hills, or so they say. And yes, they do say that.

There aren’t any restaurants. No movie theatres. No grocery stores or shoe stores. No walmarts. No cute little coffee shops. Just two gas stations and an ATM. That’s it. The storefronts on Main Street are all boarded up.

I asked Safety how she felt about it. She just shrugged. “Like living on the Rez,” was all she’d say.

The only drawback is it has a basement. That’s not good for me. Basements are like spiders. They’re creepy.

But it’s fully furnished, all utilities paid, ten minutes from work and my half of the rent will only be about $425 a month. If another girl is hired on, we might loop her in and cut the rent into thirds. And heck, I’m only home on Sundays anyway.

I’ve never ‘roomed’ before. I’m a loner. I like being alone.  It’s my comfort zone.

On the other hand, I don’t think I want to live alone in a ghost town. Not yet, anyway.

Baby steps, I tell myself. Take baby steps.

First item on the agenda: Buy a Keurig.