Alexandra Duncan

Science Fiction. Fantasy. Feminism.


Less than a week after our goat-herding neighbor was unceremoniously rousted from his compound, Jeremy and I got word from our landlord that he was moving back from out of state and wanted to move into the apartment we had been renting from him. After several weeks of panic, nearly a dozen house or apartment tours, more credit applications that I've ever filled out before, and the help of some incredibly generous friends, Jeremy and I have moved into a new house. I have to say, we lucked out. Our new view is just as interesting as the goat man's yard, and much more awe-inspiring: The house is large and drafty, and at night we can hear train cars connecting with a rumble like far-off bombs. The river winds around almost out of view at the foot of the hill. On the other side, the warehouses and art studios of the arts district stretch out until they meet the city proper and the mountains beyond. The first time I stayed the night, I felt I was standing at the edge of the world, looking out at some post-apocalyptic landscape. I only hope it isn't so beautiful it distracts me from writing.

I think both the animals will be more happy in the new house, if we can keep Pyewackett from running out into the street and getting flattened like a furry pancake. He's taken to hanging out on my writing desk, where he has an excellent view of the birds and whatever else is living down by the river. --->

And Renfield has a bit more living space. He's hanging out in the living room with us, now.

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