*sigh*
This is where I lived from 1987-1992. I still think of it as home.
I don't know who ripped out most of the lawn, or who tore down the basketball hoop that was my 10th birthday present, or who ripped out all the juniper bushes that used to be in front of the place, or who ripped out the rest of the landscaping that my mother put in.
Granted, those that know me well know that there was some serious drama with this place, and I don't know how many owners have come and gone in the last 17 years.
But fuck all if I'm not a little heartbroken all the same.
1 comment:
Last weekend, John and I drove by the house we lived in when we first moved here. It was the first actual house, as opposed to apartment, either of us lived in as adults. We loved it. The yard, the view, the trees, the walk, the flower gardens. It's only been two years, but WOW, do these people have no respect for themselves? Were I shown the place now as a possible place to move into, I would not even consider it based on the outside. Sad sad sad. I shudder to think what the inside looks like.
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