I was going to write a little about this house and what it meant to me. As I began I realized what I was writng was very familiar....ahh becasue I already wrote about it in October. A quick, cut and paste of the relevent items and here is the homage to the house on Hays.
This was the first house I owned. I lived in it as a tenant, drank too much in it, didn't pay rent, detoxed in 2nd floor front room and slowly got my life together.
I bought the house for cheap -which is exactly what I could afford. After the sale I walked through it, looking at it with fresh eyes. I would stand in a room and think to myself 'I own this'. Even the scraggly, Charlie Brown Christmas tree in the backyard didn't escape my figurative spraying of ownership, "yup, that diseased looking stick in the ground is mine." I was proud to own this house. The bank, of course, could argue who actually owned the property but screw them, the house was mine- I had earned it.
This morning a left the realator's office with a nice little check in my pocket and a spring in my step.