Im staying three nights a week in my house these days, four in New York City. In NYC I have a little room to myself which is plenty nice, but its someone elses room. Im subletting. The bed works well enough, but its not my bed. The next door neighbors make a little bit of noise after mid-night, but overall they arent too awful disturbing. Theyre not my Vermont neighbors though, whore quiet and live a half mile away. I have two roommates, gals, one a Hungarian, the other from California. Theyre very, very nice, but theyre human.
Here in Vermont, I live solo.The bathroom in the New York apartment is small, I barely fit on the toilet, and the folks living in the apartments across the courtyard can see in, but the hot water works, and its plenty clean, so no harm done, other than its not my bathroom. My bathroom in my home here is very large, its very comfortable, and the only folks whod have a chance of seeing in would have to be using spy glasses out their airplane window as they approach the Morrisville airport. My bathroom is sweet.
The New York City apartment is what they call a fourth floor walk-up. There are well over 120 stairs to the door, its good exercise. The garage in my house is attached and there are but three steps from it to the main floor of the house, its all the exercise I need.
While the New York City apartment has a kitchen, its not much bigger then a dressing room at Wal-Mart. My kitchen is great big, and new and because of my bad back, I had the counters built extra high. Its nice my kitchen is, and its mine. Last night I ate dinner at my friends house. His wife is a freaky great cook. She served carrots, asparagus, corn muffins, and a potato casserole. When I asked her about the menu on the phone the day before the dinner she told me, Were having rack of lamb everybody gets their own rack. She had some fancy Russian Easter cake and a Key Lime pie for desert. It was all made from scratch.