A month ago I made the 25th change of abode in this 44 years of being alive. It’s too many! I am thoroughly sick of it. I sometimes wonder if the regular moving around I did while childhood had a lasting effect that I continued without thinking about. Granted, the situations/circumstances are different. I’ve been a renter too long.
This move was notable in that I was very conscious (after the fact, sadly — lease signed, no way to back out) that we’d gone from a relatively nice place to a place that’s significantly worse.
I don’t want to dwell on the negative tonight so – looking back: the old house.
Making use of the sun for warming a house seems like common sense but so few older houses do it. Getting lower winter sun was fantastic.
It was maybe a 1960s house that someone had put some money and intelligence into renovating in recent years. Rented for a year or so before we got to it then us there for a year, now the owner (a developer) is going to demolish it to build two shitty units on the block. This makes no sense.