I've settled on an a price with the owner of two little houses in upper Lawrenceville. They sit back to back, sharing a little yard, near 54th between Dobson and Carnegie Streets. The insides are pristine (nicer than any house or apartment I've ever lived in), but don't worry the sterile white walls won't last long.
Sara was right when she said it was a fucker-upper. I can't stop daydreaming about which walls need to be ripped down, where new walls ought to be made--who we can invite to install art, design shelves of scrap, and ultimately live in the cyberpunk apocalypse. My buddy Pat is certified in tunnel building and secret room construction (this will likely prove useful).
With any luck this agreement will be finalized, a deed will be signed, and these houses will soon be converted from simple rental properties into a bridge that connects fantasy with reality.
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