CONDO... LENCE

The view from my bedroom window is priceless. I'm thankful that Hazel and I chose to be on the 12th floor instead of the intended 3rd floor unit overlooking the mossy-decked warehouse. The place looks so big right now. My eyes scan the surroundings and rest upon the only piece of furniture we have -- the TV rack/Bookshelf (Just the rack, no TV).

I feel a little pity for our state. Here we are, two struggling puppies (Poor Urban Professionals) trying to make our point in this godforsaken city by attempting to finance a condo unit with invisible furniture.

In my mind are numbers. Calculations involving a lot of minuses and negatives. I know in time we'll be able to get of them. The only consolation I get is the fact that when we finally get to fill the place up and make it look more like a dainty home than someone's stockroom, we would have a sense of contentment and pride.

Perhaps, then, we would have the license to scream "Eat that, you idiots!" at the world.

Oh no. I take it back. According to a movie I watch recently, never churn out words that are too bitter, lest you will be forced to eat them someday. Working hard for the sake of seeing people cringe is never the golden path. Robert Frost can berate all he wants, but no, sir, this time, in this situation, I will take the road constantly travelled and work hard for myself.

Revenge is not always sweet.

Tonight, our house is bare. But i dare not complain as much anymore. Because someday, I know our princes (who drive the truck that will transport our newly purchased home pieces) will come.

For now, I savor the beauty of city lights from the window, marvel in the glow of life as it creeps toward us and, maybe, dance around the house while I still can. Because someday, and it won't be long, it will be crammed with stuff. And I won't be able to play Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music anymore. (November 10, 2003)