i can see it.

It's a Crafstman. It was built somewhere between 1910-1930. It's eastside, Silverlake, Echo Park or even Eagle Rock. It has bumps and bruises, dents and dings. The heater's old and needs to be repaired ,if not replaced. In fact, the whole place is a fixer upper, but it has wood inlays, old colored tile in the bathroom and a separate shower and there are windows all around and a lemon tree in the scraggly, overgrown backyard in need of serious love. I'll have to get used to a new neighborhood and be out of whatever comfort zone I've created. I may be sharing it with some lovely woman or I might be by myself. The DNA built into the walls in that Howard Roark way that Craftsman homes give you the feeling they were built for each individual owner.

I'll get buyer's remose as soon as I sign the paperwork. The mortgage will put pressure on me to make more money and focus more and I will freak out a couple of times and wonder what I got myself into and how I have sabotaged creative goals to buy it.

I'll freeze in the winter.

And...

I'll be able to sit on my lawn at sunset on a summer night and split a few bottles of wine with friends and act stupid. I will sit in the empty living room and listen to music and the wood inlays will hold the sound and make me smile and maybe even cry.

And I'll hear Jack's claws sliding and scratching on the wood floors as he shoots through the hallway.

I can see it. It's real now.