witchhunter

I have been so lazy lately, too lazy even to write anything here.
The plastic blew off of my couch in the barn, and I'm too lazy to go put it back.

Why do I have a plastic covered (untill recently) couch in my barn?
Well, you see, early last year a friend and I decided that we would get a house together. He still had two more years of school and didin't want to live in the dorm, and I had just decided to take some time off, and I didn't want to move back in with my parents.
We started searching for a place (I had to do most of the searching, I guess I should have taken that as a sign) and after about a month of poking around the kind of ultracompact shitholes that we could fit into our budget, I finally found the perfect place. An eight bedroom, two and a half bath house for five hundred dollars a month.
A veritable palace, or so it seemed after all of the run down economy apartments and budget duplexes with rooms that, if you will pardon the colloquialism, you couldn't cuss a cat in.
Eight bedrooms at a price that the two of us could easily afford, and literally within sight of school. Needless to say, the place was in less than perfect condition, but its imperfections were mostly cosmetic, and what better place to party than one in which there is basically nothing to break? And ohh the curiosties of the house! The oddly stained room with no windows and the wastub sink. The door on the second floor which apparently once opened onto a balcony, but now swung into empty space. The stairs, each with a tone so unique that with some practice I could tell which stair someone was on by sound alone.
After the second veiwing, the house ceased to be simply a prospective dwelling, and became MY HOUSE.
My almost roommate seemed equally excited. There was room for his pool table, thats all he really wanted in life. Even if living together turned out to be an excercise in mutual disgust, the house was big enough that we could go weeks without seeing each other unless we wanted to.
We began collecting furniture. It seemed that we had chosen a fortuitous time for our enterprise, since every member of my family apparently decided to buy all new furniture all at once. The local furniture stores must have been doing a booming buisness. Tables, chairs, couches, and a leather ottoman that probably took three cows to make, we were soon innudatrd with more furniture than anyone in there right mind would want. We didn't care We had more than twenty rooms to furnish. I would finally have enough space for all of my bookcases. It was wonderfull. Euphoric.

Finally, the big day came. we were going to sign our first one year lease. The rental company was a bit hesitant about my roommate, since he was still in college and his credit wasn't the best, but we both had steady jobs, and my credit has always been stellar.
I woke up early so that I could pack a few things, mostly tools and cleaning supplies, that i wanted to take over as soon as possible. After that was done, I got ready way too soon, and sat there looking at my watch for a few hours. When I couldn't take it any more, I jumped in the car and started the drive into town.Just as I left the interstate, my phone rang. I was my roommate, or should I say, It was NOT my roommate. He was backing out. He gave me reasons and offered bland platitudes, but I didn't hear them. I turned around and went home, trying to think of a way to salvage my dreams, but it was just out of reach of my budget, and I couldn't find another roommate. I was not to be.