I have this

I'm still at a whopping zero when it comes to regrets about my new place.

Do you see what is behind that windowpane? Do you? It is a tree. A TREE. It may not be a very big tree, or even one tree among other trees, but as my Partner In Crime put it, I'm "one tree up" on a lot of people in this city.

My commute may be 45 minutes, but my rewards are church bells on Sundays and a view into a square of little oblong backyards. I can see the skyline from my roof. My neighbors are old women in housecoats who hang their laundry to dry and host grandchildren in plastic deck chairs in the afternoons. Every morning, an aged yellow lab babysits a golden haired toddler who tries to ride him around the cement playpen.

I should probably put curtains up, since our little alley town offers front row seats into each other's privacy and anyone peeking out a window at night can see straight through my fourth wall, but for now I just hop from shower to dresser trying to shimmy into my clothes before peeping toms notice there's nudity afoot.

So there's that. Now I have only to continue accumulating all of the (surprisingly expensive) items needed to play house as a functioning adult, sort out the minor details (paint the bathroom, caulk the holes, hang the curtain rods, switch the hot water pipe) and wait for the gas to be turned on. Oh, right, and convince Peter Pan to actually sleep there. Right now the only clue to his existence in my life is a shaving kit under the sink. Unacceptable.