Let's play a game.
What is this?
OK, how about this?
Give up? I bet it'll all become clear with this:
You guessed it! It's my new home for the next year!
This is pretty much the most I've seen of it. Unless you count this guy:
You may ask yourself, what room is that? Or, where is that built-in located? Or, perhaps, that giant wall of windows, what does that divide? And you would be right to ask those questions and I would also tell you, you've got to stop asking so many questions.
West Texas is on island time, mon. And you've got to go with the flow.
It's like this: I got my job, which I'm super excited about btw, and now I need to find a place to live. But the amount of time I've been given to pack up my life and move to a remote, dusty town is so limited, I have to just pick a place based on pics from the Interweb. Except that most places in Alpine and Marfa don't really post their pictures on the Interweb.
So I ask a local, hey, where do I go to find a good apartment? And she points me to the Alpine Avalanche, which rocks, and I find this listing for a two bedroom apartment, $500 a month. Listen, at that price I'm already sold. So I ask my friend, "Will you go take pictures for me? I'll bribe you with anything you want." "Yeah, sure, no problem!" And a couple days go by and back in Dallas, some thirty-thousand dollar millionaire has already lost and regained his fortune and now has an Astin Martin and a prostitute, but I still don't have pictures.
"Hey, so, any chance you got to take those pictures?" "Oh! Yeah, totally gonna do it."
But this woman is an artist and she's busy in her studio, as she should be, so that's her priority- which I totally get. And a few days go by and we have a tornado warning here in Dallas and a wall cloud pretty much forms over my house so I have to take my dog to the Equinox gym, where the VIP locker men's locker room has retina scanning technology (thank god! When, I ask you, will they install DNA testing technology?? That inner sanctum must be protected!), and I huddled with strangers in the women's locker room as the power went out and they told us to cover ourselves with the hand towels. But-- exciting news!-- we survived.
And yet, still no pictures.
So now I turn to my future co-worker, who is also so awesome and willing to help and he says "no problem!" But a couple days go by and there's no pictures and I ask again, so he goes out and shoots the front of the place for me.
Hey! It's cute! An adobe duplex, not so bad. But what about the inside?
"Well, the landlord's phone was down all day, so I couldn't get in."
Oh well! My pal Nancy inspects the photo and declares it perfect. I'm at peace... sorta. I still would really like to see that interior.
So I ask the landlord to take pictures. He's so nice, and he goes to do it, but when he gets to the house, his camera's not working. I get a call, "Hey Paige, I tried to take pictures for ya, but my camera was out of batteries." His son is totally going to take the photos for me though, he says.
So days go by and I write to my future co-worker "I'm never going to see this place, am I?" And he says, "Oh ye of little faith, I'm sending you photos right now!" WHAT?! I'm nervous and excited (which seems to be my perpetual state of being at the moment) and in come the photos.
They are terrific on detail, but detail of what I'm not quite sure. Does my kitchen actually have cabinets? That remains to be seen. How big is the living room? Who knows! Is there even a toilet? It'll have to be a surprise!
But none of that matters. Honestly, it doesn't. I'm sure it'll have all the requisite home amenities. No matter what it is, it's mine. Remember, I rented it sight unseen. "You know what? I've got to live a little!" I told my landlord when I pulled the trigger on my deposit. Hell, I'll make it cute. And my co-worker did tell me "it has a lot of potential, it just needs a woman's touch." Guess what? I'm a woman! I have a touch! As Tim Gunn has been known to say, "make it work." This apartment is just like I'm on Project Runway and I've been given three yards of felt and some duct tape and I have to make a dress for Pippa Middleton. GO! I can do it!
So, yeah, I have no clear picture of where I'm moving in a couple of weeks. But once I get it fixed up I'll take pics (preferably full room shots) and show you guys. Then the mystery of that glass wall will be solved, once and for all.
But my poor landlord. I've called him so many times so far. My fear is I've terrified him already. So I told him, "I'm so sorry to keep calling, but I'm really stressed out and the pace of life here in Dallas is just so much faster. I'm sure once I get down there I'll chill out."
He laughs and says, "OK." Which I'm finding is standard answer whenever someone like me baffles you down there.
So the moral of the story is this: despite the fact Far West Texas is in an extreme drought at the moment, and surrounded by raging wildfires from all sides, the people really are on island time. So chillax, won't you? Grab yourself a Lone Star. Shit'll get done when it needs to get done. And people are happy to do it for ya in the meantime.
Just don't expect it tomorrow. Or possibly ever.
But it's all good in the meantime, folks. Just look at that view.