Day before yesterday I posted a photo of My Favorite Frog and The Second Mrs. Pennington that was taken in our home in
Me, with some of the backyard flowers
TSMP in one of those comfy sling chairs
Me in the other comfy sling chair along with Kuma, aka Koomer Za Zoomer
As I noted in the Froggy picture day before yesterday, TSMP and I were pretty poor at the time. We furnished that house with (about) $500.00, and our furnishings consisted of two sling chairs from the JC Penney garden center, a cheap dinette set, a glass and chrome coffee table (our sole “indulgence,” which remained with us until the very end), a mattress on the floor and some other odds and ends… including my stereo, which was replaced by a friend’s stereo…for about a year or so. We had no teevee; we had a dog, instead. Much more entertaining.
Our house had the air of an up-market hippie crash pad, due in no small part to the décor (such as it was), and the fact there were three of us living there. A good friend of mine, who was also stationed at North Bend AFS and who was going through hard times, moved in with us when we took possession of the house. My Buddy was the victim of bad choices and bad luck that led to him being (a) involuntarily discharged from the Air Force and (b) being involuntarily discharged from his relationship with his girlfriend, later his wife…at nearly the same time. So TSMP and I took him in while he got back on his feet. And there were various comings and goings of other characters as well, which I’m sure had the neighbors wondering, if not talking among themselves.
But…life was good in that house. Life was also pretty much normal. I left for work every morning around 0700, and got home around 1700…rinse, repeat, five days a week. I went to night school at the local community college. TSMP went through a number of shit-jobs following her graduation from that university in
Ultimately, the best thing about that house was the Oregon State VA loan we had, which was the sole reason we could afford to buy a house in the first place, given our level of poverty in 1978.
We had a firm offer at our asking price…full asking price… the day we put the house on the market. We laughed all the way to the bank, and quite literally, at that. We put the profit from the sale of the house in a jumbo CD, packed up our sling chairs and other stuff, and left for Ol' Blighty in the summer of 1980, where we spent the next three years living in London.
We weren’t so lucky with our next house, but that’s quite another story…one which ended when we took a rather substantially-sized check to closing when we sold. Not when we bought the house, but when we sold it. Bad juju, that was. But: another time.