A year and a few days ago, in what my family and I jokingly refer to as “the extraction”, my parents drove up from Tennessee, rented a moving truck, ordered some storage space, bought me a bed, purchased moving boxes, started me a new phone number, packed my things, and pulled me from the abysmal hollow that was my then wife’s muddy quicksand. They talked sense into me when I told them I still felt obligated to go back and let the dog out. Well, old habits die hard I suppose. My generous friend Jefe had what amounted to a sweatbox available in his apartment that, when he thought about it, he really had no use for. Besides, the money that he would save by my moving in would make it worth giving up a little independence.
Moving in last summer I didn’t know this box to be anything different than the sweat lodge that it is. There are no windows in my room, only a 4”x4” vent in the ceiling with enough plexiglass around it to allow enough sun in to cook all day long. As the summer progressed I must have gotten used to it (I must have?). In the fall and winter it was the warmest room in the apartment. But summer is here again and so am I.
you make it seem pretty spacious in the photos. i do question now whether the loss of independence is worth.
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