as yet untitled - bungalow - writing doodle

Three days, fifteen condos, apartments, guesthouses, trailers, and shanties, and finally XXX found the only place Big Red and I could possibly call home.

The two bedroom bungalow had a small yard in back and white picket fence in front.  There were a couple of mature trees, some rosebushes that had seen better days, and enough room to rough house in the backyard.  If it had been two stories, it would have been the Mayberry ideal, but one floor I could definitely work with.

The house came with the barest of basics.  The refrigerator was just this side of a beer cooler.  The stove had two burners.  The showerhead was handheld, if I didn't like it, I could always take a bath.  The whole place had linoleum  not the vinyl stuff from the 60s and 70s, but from the 30s or 40s.  Other than that, the place had zero amenities.   Sure it was ugly, the floors all looked like they belonged in a service station, but they would be low maintenance and until we got all the way through the puppies, low maintenance was good.