Witnessing a Suspicious Death While Grabbing a Jacket

In May 2022, on a rare non-working Saturday for husband, we went with a friend to get lunch at a vegan restaurant within a cidery. We normally don't eat at vegan places and normally don't drink cider (and certainly don't travel outside our neighborhood for either of these things), but this vegan food was worth the drive. The cider was good, too, though now both those places are closed.

While there I ran into a friend from grad school, who was friends with the cidery owner. She and her husband chased around their kid who was just getting good at running and was very interested in my friend's giant dog. We had amazing food, lingered over ciders, then decided to go get a beer closer to home.

View of the water tower.

The brewery around the corner, one of the places we heavily supported when Covid was real bad, is extremely dog friendly. We got a pig ear and beer-can plush for the dog and took our pints to the street seating area. It was chilly and we joked about asking them to turn on the fire pit even though it was still the middle of the day. But eventually I got too chilly and decided to run home real quick to grab a hoodie. I would have been gone 10 minutes tops.

Half a block ahead of my alley I saw what looked like a trans woman approach a man with some urgency, then they both went down the alley. I think I only noticed them because she was wearing a neon pink top, but thought nothing of it otherwise. I turned down my alley to find them standing near a garage, and she turned to look at me, kind of worried. Then I saw bare feet on the ground, sticking out and up wicked witch style.

Gorgeous and well crafted kitchen.

The garage was partially obscured by a fence, hiding the scene from the alley entrance. In seconds I had full view of a second man lying on his back in front of the garage, face towards the sky, eyes and mouth open. The woman stood a few feet away while the first man talked to 911. A fourth man was performing CPR and mouth to mouth, which I remember being surprised by.

"I found him," the woman said as I passed. "He's starting to turn blue." I muttered something like oh no, paused for a second, but then decided there wasn't much I could do and, not wanting to be a looky-loo, continued on towards my apartment. The cops and paramedics would be there soon, someone was already doing CPR, and I didn't have anything that could help. They seemed to have things under control.

Nice enough bedroom.

A few steps later it occurred to me that leaving a trans woman, who was also Black, with two white dudes and a possibly dying guy to the inevitable cops might not be best. Plus, maybe I had something at home? I didn't know, but felt I should offer. So I turned back.

"Is there something I can grab?" I asked the woman. "I live here, I don't know what I have or what would be helpful."

She wasn't sure. So I stood with her. She was shivering, possibly because of the chill but more likely because of what she witnessed. The first man was still on the phone and she leaned her body towards him a bit. "I have narcan, tell them," she said, then paused. "Ask them if I should give him the narcan." The man focused on the phone call.

Spacious bathroom.

While I mentally ran through my household items, I took a closer look at the three men in front of me. The man on the phone was probably around my age, had the posture of someone who had clearly been summoned away from something else and was doing the only thing he could think to do. The man doing CPR faced away from me and all I could see was he was chubby and wore a backwards hat. I wondered if he knew the man on the ground or if he was being a really good Good Samaritan. In these Covid times, would I do mouth to mouth on a stranger? Based on my initial surprise, not likely.

The man on the ground, definitely turning blue, was a scary sight for a quiet residential alley. But he would have looked out of place even if he had been upright and his normal skin color. For one, he wore hospital clothes. For another, he had no shoes. His hospital top was open, revealing multiple EKG electrodes attached to his chest. He looked older, maybe early 60s, with thinning whitish gray hair. The nearest hospital was only two miles away but surely he didn't walk out of it? The way he was angled next to the garage, top of his head pointing at the garage door and feet stretched towards the alley, didn't look like a natural fall. He had to have been placed on the ground that way.

Rooftop patio.

The paramedics finally arrived. Five or six EMTs jumped out and took charge. One relieved the guy doing CPR. The others opened equipment in plastic packaging and tossed what they didn't need aside, attending to the man on the ground and grabbing more equipment from the ambulance. A minute later the cops arrived. They prioritized the bystanders, talking first to the man who called them. I didn't hear his conversation but he shrugged, shook his head, pointed towards the woman standing next to me, and talked for a while longer. I noticed another woman, probably the first man's wife or girlfriend, lingering at the alley entrance, watching. I wondered what they'd been doing when he was summoned.

The woman next to me was fidgety and still shivering. She couldn't find her phone in her overnight bag (it was in there, she assured me, just buried deep). I offered to call it so she could get it more quickly, and she gave me her number. Got the phone.

Combo living room and dining room.

We mumbled a bit about how crazy this was. I asked her how she got involved. And that's where this takes the situation from highly suspicious to probably a murder.

She was taking a walk headed west down the same street I took going back to my apartment. She'd later talk to me about how she enjoys going for long walks to clear her head, an activity and purpose we share. At the alley she saw a black Mercedes with a couple of men standing next to it. 

She asked me, did I know the car? I didn't think so—there was a nicer car usually parked there but I couldn't be sure it was a Mercedes, or even a black sedan. I'd never seen the owner.

Long, narrow garage.

The men were dragging something from the car. Her spidey senses raised, she paused at the alley to watch. People with nice cars don't usually dump shit in alleys. She didn't see the man directly. But when the Mercedes drove away quickly after, she wandered in to see what they'd left. That's when she saw the older man in his hospital clothes lying on his back on the cement. She hailed the first person she saw and asked him to call the cops. All this was happening as I decided I needed a jacket and left the brewery, but I'd never have noticed a black Mercedes, even if it was leaving my alley. A minute or two later and I was standing next to her.

I don't know how much time passed, it felt like a long time just standing there. The paramedics slowed, the one doing chest compressions got up. They gathered up some of the equipment. The man had died. I couldn't see his face and was too far away to really know if his chest was moving, but his open chest looked gray. And the paramedic activity said everything else. 

Built in cabinets.

Then one of the cops finally approached us. I only said a few words to him, as I wasn't involved, but I jotted down his badge number. He spoke to the woman next to me for a few minutes, she reiterating everything she'd already told me. Leaving most of their trash behind in the alley, the paramedics loaded up, bringing the man on a stretcher into the back, sheet over his body.

They drove off, cops following. The woman and I had nothing left to do, so we turned in the other direction. I walked her to the end of the alley and we hugged. She would continue on her walk, or head back home, and I'd go inside for my jacket and return to the brewery. I'd been gone for a long time by then. Naturally, husband and friend had made guesses as to why I'd been gone so long and were shocked to hear the truth.

Since I had her number, I texted the woman I stood with later on to check in. She'd had a shock but it wasn't her first time. Being in her community, she unfortunately has experienced those she knew and loved lose or take their lives. She wanted to do what she could to prevent it in others, get through each day, and take time to appreciate beauty.

Rooftop solar panels.

When I think about that day, I wonder how she's doing. If I've passed her in a store or walking through the neighborhood, if she's still in San Diego, if she and her friends are scared. If she ever found out anything about what had happened that day, or if she didn't want to look. I looked for a couple of weeks, checking the news, doing google searches, checking the city website, not knowing where this strange death might have been reported. If it would have been reported. If there'd been any evidence of foul play other than the woman's story. If the cops even checked or if the cause of death was something basic like a heart attack, the EKG monitors and hospital clothes barely registering on the cops' list of weird things they've seen. 

A year later, the house and garage were demolished. Not because of that, it's just what's been happening in that neighborhood. A single family home is removed and a multi-family something goes in its place, always luxury, about half the time it's ugly. Now the lot is home to four luxury townhouses. One sold before the building was even finished, just shy of two years after the man died in the alley, for $1.4 million. Two others sold for slightly less shortly after it was finished, almost on the anniversary. The last lingered for a year, finally selling for a little under $1.2 million.

What five million dollars in townhouses looks like.

Before the fourth one sold, husband and I stopped by during an open house. We'd talked about buying before, and even started the process, but having over a million dollar townhouses on the same block we lived in an apartment that was infested with crickets, where a man died suspiciously in the alley, made it seem impossible. (Happily, it ended up being possible.) I wanted to see where this ghost was likely haunting and what you could get for a million-plus townhouse these days.

The townhouse did have some nice features. Three floors not counting the rooftop patio, a thoughtful layout, massive great room on floor two, decent views, garage, and touches like soft close doors and convenient storage. But was it worth a million dollars? The only outside space was the rooftop patio, the room you'd want to use for a guest or office room was pretty small, and there wasn't even a balcony. It felt so inside. It was nice, but not for me.

We Bought a Condo

 Holy shit we bought a condo. 

Key day!

I didn’t think it would be possible. Even with two incomes, husband and I had said for a long time that there was no way we’d ever be able to buy anything in San Diego. It was only in the last couple of years when husband’s business nearly doubled, my income was stable (and then increased with a new job), and we were both able to save that he started saying “when” we buy a place. Such a manifester. Each time the market favored buyers in the past we weren’t in any position to buy. The closest we got was in 2022 when prices were still on the low end and interest rates were rock bottom. But of course the competition was unreal and buyers were waiving all sorts of contingencies that we’d never have waived. We dipped our toes in, then decided to take a short break to get mentally ready for the fast-paced race to homeownership.

The competition died down a few months later. But it was because interest rates leaped up in that time. If we’d known the window was closing I’d have pushed harder to get in — if it didn’t happen because we were outbid, fine, but I kicked myself for letting that window close.

Decided to pause on home buying and annoy the cat instead.

After the election I read about all the things that were going to get more expensive with a tariff plan, all the rights at stake, all the uncertainties headed our way, and realized that we were in another window. The country might go to complete shit but we still have to live here and having a vested stake in our city might give us more of a voice to the people in charge. We found a realtor, a mortgage broker, talked to friends who’d gone before us, and started looking.

I’m still pretty sure husband only agreed to go along with this because we both figured it was still unlikely that we’d actually do it. The townhouses at the end of our block were $1.5 million, and still didn’t even have a yard, so what were we going to get for a third of that?

We made a list of our must haves and dealbreakers. We’d been in our apartment more than five years and mostly liked it, but the parts we didn’t like were starting to become really, really annoying. Texting your partner the poop emoji when you need him to get out of the bathroom isn’t as romantic as it sounds. Waiting on whichever neighbor decided to wash every article of clothing they own the day you really need to do laundry (because there’s one machine for the whole building) makes you hate living around people. The kitchen counter was made of floor tiles that were impossible to keep clean, the floor was basically paper glued over pulp, the dust from the alley covered everything in a day if we left the windows open, and it was so dark that my poor plants struggled to survive. Plus we were infested with crickets and I strongly suspected the pipes under the building had been leaking for years and both my bunny and I were having gastroenterology issues.

I can finally allow a pet outside!

We at least needed out of the apartment. And we looked at rentals, too. Any apartment that had in-unit laundry and a second bathroom was going to be an extra thousand a month, at which point it was almost silly to not try to buy. Sure, our monthly payment literally doubled, but in 6-10 years (even if the inevitable recession is bad), rent will catch up to our mortgage.

Our must haves:

• two bedrooms

• two toilets

• a washer and dryer (or space to add one)

• one dedicated parking space (with somewhere to park the scoot)

Out dealbreakers:

• a walk score below 70

• a location that wasn’t within a scootable distance to my work

• a recent flip

We mostly kept to this list, with two partial exceptions: the previous owner made an agreement with the neighbor to share the parking space in front of our garage and the condo was recently remodeled. Fortunately, street parking is so much easier here than in our old neighborhood and there’s just enough room to park tandem, and the remodel was basically a flip but some things we really like and the rest we’ve agreed that we can re-do when we have enough saved up again. For now, it’s livable. (Except for the oven that had actual rats nesting in it, starting a fire the first time we used the broiler…)

Crash course in homeownership our first month.

The condo also met almost all of our other really-really-wants, wants, dream-amenities, and avoided all our do-not-wants. We got a dishwasher (which we ended up replacing a couple months in, at the same time that we replaced the oven), a gorgeous and spacious balcony, garage, large kitchen, tons of natural light (like, tons, the plants are so happy), decent storage, it’s on the second story, a window in one of the bathrooms, a nearby park and a tree-lined street (there’s so much canopy!), a skylight (!!!), and a view of downtown. All in a small building and without a pool or spa.

A skylight??!??!?

We were unprepared for how challenging even finding a realtor and mortgage broker would be. I had been reading up on the home buying process for a couple of years and thought I knew more than I did. In hindsight, I wish we had taken a class.

We got realtor recommendations from friends and connections and interviewed four. Then we got lender recommendations from the realtors and interviewed five (or was it six?). So around ten near identical speeches about how people in the industry do things one way but they’re one of the few who do things differently and here’s why that’s better.

We immediately eliminated one lender for talking about our wealth potential in a couple decades when we become landlords in the real estate game. We just want a place to live where we can paint walls without asking. Maybe that’s short sighted but neither of us have any interest in buying properties - we want a home. He also actually asked us where we see ourselves in five years. Our only answer was “I don’t know, hopefully enjoying our home”. He seemed surprised by my response (or lack of) in particular and I felt he expected me to say something about having a family. A few professional acquaintances asked husband if we were trying. First comes condo, then comes baby, I guess. The lender we chose was a vibe fit. She seemed to say the same things the others did but seemed way cooler to work with.

We had a harder time with the realtor choice. Husband wanted to go with one from a networking group but my hesitation was that he split his time between two states. I wanted a lot more hand holding than I thought he’d give us. The one we chose was based in our city and did a lot more work in the areas we were looking than the others (and now lives like two neighborhoods away!).

This condo had two shower heads in the main bathroom. And a great patio.

Once we inked the agreements, he set up some showings. We sent him a few that we liked via the app and he would recommend some, too. He reassured us several times that the first several showings would be to nail down what we liked and didn’t like and then the showings would get more specific. We saw a variety of places this way and got good at reading between the lines on the descriptions. We saw some extremely affordable places in neighborhoods we weren’t jazzed about but felt had potential, only to realize that something small (like nowhere to park the scooter and even less street parking than our old neighborhood) would quickly become very annoying. Some places had no storage. Some played games with the “in unit laundry” setting. Some had nearly nonexistent or oddly shaped living rooms, and we’re living room people so that ended up being more important. We also saw some places in neighborhoods we weren’t jazzed about but had a very different kind of potential and the units themselves were amazing. One I really loved that husband didn’t was across the street from one of the best known hiking trails in the city, had two seriously impressive balconies, had a weird shape to it (which we both actually liked), a nice kitchen, and tons of space. But it also had wall to wall carpet and both bathrooms needed remodeling. Another one that husband loved that I didn’t was just a half mile away from the one I loved and was gorgeously remodeled inside, had one of the most stunning kitchens, spacious rooms and living room. But the patio space was minuscule, one parking space with no room for the scooter, we would have had to install a washer and dryer in the weird closet (which had an amazing crystal chandelier light), and I didn’t like the complex at all. Others we saw in neighborhoods we were very familiar with but realized as soon as we stepped inside that we’d be paying for the location only.

Scheduling all these showings was another challenge. Husband has an atypical schedule and I had to be in office a couple days of the week. Showings were restricted to a couple of evenings a week and the very occasional weekend. Plus we had normal life things: we're both involved in organizations and went to protests, beach clean ups, and events, and at one point I had a colonoscopy and endoscopy and had other things on my mind.

Fitting in healthcare in between house tours.

Our condo had an open house on a day our realtor was unavailable. Husband had to work anyway, and I wasn’t sure we wanted to live in this neighborhood. A little before husband had to leave for work we decided we’d go, just to see. The area had a lot of availability, so even if we didn’t like this one it would be good to check it out.

We toured fairly quickly since we were sans representation and on a schedule but it was nice. Our realtor had encouraged us to make an offer to get the first one out of the way, reassuring us that we didn’t have to go through with it if it was accepted (though who gets their first offer accepted anyway?). Husband and I agreed that we liked it enough that it could be our first offer and just assumed this would be a learning experience.

The open house was on Saturday. On Sunday we attended my nephew’s birthday party out of town all the while texting our realtor as he prepared our offer: $5k over asking and our lender’s attractive closing terms. On Monday we went out for margaritas with a friend, cheers-ing to having submitted our first offer and doing the scariest thing since getting married. That evening, our realtor called us and informed us about the process for submitting a best and last offer (such bullshit: they had three offers and wanted a bidding war). He kept saying how it comes down to how bad we want it. If it was only about how bad we wanted a house, we would be talking about a house with a yard, not a condo. He pushed us to make our last and best offer nearly at the end of our total budget — the number that we were approved for but would mean a significant lifestyle shift — because we could still back out after the inspection. But that was $50k over the list price and I was just not comfortable with it. Husband and I got off the phone a few times to talk privately and make sure we were on the same page. Then I told our realtor that If someone else wanted to pay that much for the condo, they could and we wouldn’t regret the loss. I knew that high an offer would definitely be accepted (our realtor knew it as well). I held the line on a lower-but-still-way-over-asking offer. I’m not sure if I wanted it to be accepted or if I hoped the other offer would come in higher so we could keep looking at the lower end of our budget.

Meanwhile, the margarita turned a tickle in my throat into a full blown sore throat. That's what I get for getting in the bounce house at my nephew's party. I was probably a lot shorter with the realtor than I needed to be, but was also very aware that he gets paid a percentage of the sale price and it's hard not to be skeptical that he was selfishly encouraging a higher sale price. 

On Tuesday, husband met the realtor at the condo so he could see it, having been busy with other clients during the open house. They noticed some things I'd missed during our quick tour and I felt better about us all being on the same page again. Wednesday morning, our realtor submitted our best and last offer: $35k over asking.

Wednesday afternoon we got a text from our realtor: hey, can you guys talk? it’s good news.

I walked into the office where husband was working and showed him the text. Did we just buy a house?? I was a little giddy but also pretty nervous. If they accepted could we actually afford this? I thought we had more time! No one gets their first offer accepted! Can we afford this? If they accepted did that mean we way over bid? How are we going to afford this??

It turned out that the other offer was the same exact amount, but their terms were less appealing. So in the end it was our lender who made the deal.

Noticing weird office building ceiling panels in the hallway.

Then a bunch of really scary things started happening. Now that they had accepted our offer, we had to do a whole lot of work in a very short amount of time (those darn terms that they liked so much) and make a massive decision while working and husband just so happening to have an exceptionally busy schedule, including being completely out of touch a couple of days doing work in a prison, and I had some races that month. The amount of paperwork we had to digitally sign nearly made me cross eyed because of course I read every word of these goddamn contracts. 

•  Five days after the open house we had to send our entire financial lives to the broker and review and sign 25 different documents, some with dozens of pages.

• Seven days after the open house I had proof of insurance.

• Eight days after the open house we had an inspection (let the realtor choose the inspector which I wouldn't do again) and transferred an obscene amount of money to the escrow group.

• Nine days after the open house we had a scuffle with our lender because I wanted to double check the rates with the lenders we didn't go with — got a couple of suspiciously low offers.

• Ten days after the open house we had an appraisal.

• Eleven days after the open house we got the inspection report and the HOA documents and gave our 30-day notice at our apartment.

• Thirteen days after the open house we DocuSigned over a hundred more pages.

• Eighteen days after the open house we were cleared to close and I scheduled movers.

• Twenty-one days after the open house we physically signed paper copies of hundreds of documents with a notary.

Just the amount of DocuSign emails was exhausting. From the date the offer was accepted to when we were cleared to close was two weeks.

Oh, and we’d started purging some of our belongings and packing in all this mess.

We said we'd do this once a month and haven't been back since.

We had an extra couple days due to a holiday, and took one day of a long weekend to drive out to our nearby(ish) mountain for a day hike. We marveled at how different the air was and why we don’t do this more, saw someone who was obviously in the beginning of the PCT, watched squirrels and birds and hawks living their best lives, and took a bunch of landscape and close-up wildflower photos. After the hurricane of the last few weeks and knowing what awaited us the next few months, we needed that nature break.

Three weeks after the open house, the day after Memorial Day, we invited our two best friends over to the condo where we met our realtor and got the keys. There was no last minute paperwork or surprises. He gave us a basked with a bottle of champagne, glasses, and tea towels, and a very nice live edge charcuterie board. Husband and I also brought a bottle of champagne that we purchased months before and saved for this day, which we popped because it was cold, and my friend gave us a good bottle of wine. We’ve moved before bringing alcohol first so this fit. The five of us cheered, our friends explored the condo, and we took some photos with the keys (which we tossed as soon as we replaced the locks). After all I’d talked with my friend about how we probably couldn’t afford anything other than a fixer in a less desirable neighborhood, she remarked that she was surprised by how nice it was.

Friends. <3

And it was! The previous owners did some remodeling before listing. Only after getting the keys would we come to realize just how budget of a remodel it was, but the flooring and bathrooms were new, fresh paint everywhere, and the kitchen was on the newer side. Our reality was that we truly wouldn’t have been able to afford a half-million-dollar home that also needed work while paying rent for another six months, so this was the best we could get. The things we really like about it aren’t things we can change, while the things we’re annoyed with are things we can eventually change.

Taking a cleaning break on my (!!!) balcony.

We had a week in between getting the keys and moving in. Nearly every day after work I went over to clean and get set up. The previous owner was the most bachelor of bachelors and so many surfaces were sticky or had crumbs. When we eventually redo the kitchen I will not have those fancy-looking cabinet faces with the depressions that collect spills and crumbs. I mopped the floors twice, scrubbed both bathrooms, was there for the washing machine installation, tried to clean the dishwasher and gave up, scrubbed the garden windows, and disinfected every surface, shelf, drawer, and cabinet.

So many things needed to be grouted. Even the floor.

We moved in a week after closing, taking a week-day off. Even with professional movers, having everything in boxes, and only going three miles away it still took all day. Like, movers showed up at 8am, finished at noon, and husband and I kept going until 9pm when we finally made our first dinner (nacho Wednesday) in the home that we owned together. We’d had to go back for laundry at the laundromat, a few minor boxes, groceries, plants that the movers inexplicably didn’t move, set up as much as possible so that we could bring the rabbits over, find the essentials that we needed for the next 24-hours, set up internet and TV, and put sheets on the bed and our bathroom things away. 

First half of moving day. The buns needed to go where all those boxes are.

We had a gummy, put something on TV while we ate our very late dinner, then started to doze on the couch. Somehow, despite being utterly exhausted and bruised, high, and full of nachos, we still christened the condo (I can’t decide if I should be surprised that it was as hot as it was despite all those conditions, or not surprised because of those same conditions).

Probably the most fun IKEA trip we've ever had.

The next few weeks involved many trips to IKEA, hardware stores, and online stores as we furnished and fixed up the little issues. The little things we needed added up: curtains, curtain rods, curtain hooks, shelf liners, trash cans, sponges, and caulk. Then there were the big things: a washing machine and dryer, the stove that we unexpectedly had to replace, the dishwasher we replaced for the hell of it, and we’re currently dealing with replacing the roof (can’t emphasize enough how un fun that is). We also had some medium things to buy: a small grill for the month we were without an oven, a table and chairs for the balcony, a cabinet for a pantry, a rug, a ceiling fan, and a storage bench for movies because the TV stand shelves were no longer sufficient for husband's collection.

Unexpected purchases that I'm very happy with.

When we felt "officially" unpacked and set up (not counting the boxes of books under our desks, things stashed in closets, and the bare walls), we opened the bottle of wine our friend gave us on key day. We still have the champagne from our realtor: that's getting popped when we have a housewarming.

IKEA really does make it so you can show up with any size vehicle.

We’ve lived in our condo for six months now and honestly love it. That was the biggest surprise: I was near certain that whatever we got would get us through five or seven or ten years until we could sell it and upgrade into the home we really wanted. But we’re really happy with what we got the first time! I still want a yard someday and it’d be extra nice to have space for guests, but I’m not dreading the next several years here. The height of our unit gives us a killer view of downtown and breezes that made the (admittedly mild) summer bearable without AC. The covered balcony is usable even when it’s warm and sunny (and raining - I still have to water my plants). The kitchen is big enough for us both to work at the same time and we have all the appliances we could want, and I now have a fully gluten free kitchen. My plants are thriving with all the light — the succulents have sprouted so many flowers, even my snake plant! One thing I thought I’d never get is a bright office. Every place we viewed had one room that was dark as a cave, which would have been the office. Now my desk faces a northern window where I watch birds on the light pole and under the roof eaves and see the tops of dozens of trees. It’s almost too bright, but I haven’t put up a curtain yet because I worked so many years in a cave-dark room.

This made me ridiculously happy.

Sometimes I stand under the skylight in the hallway and look around and just appreciate where we live. Husband and I agreed when we moved in that we wanted to be intentional with our decor, even if it meant waiting until we knew exactly what we wanted to do. We already owned most of the furniture and decor we needed and wanted, buying mostly smaller items to build a cohesive look. The living room is jungle-y: muted gold and white rug, emerald storage bench with cheetah and zebra throw pillows, a small amber flower vase to hold my found feathers next to my ostrich egg, foliage in every place I can fit it, dark green and sheer tan curtains, and seagrass baskets for storage. Since the floors are a cool gray and the kitchen is gray-blue, marble, and steel, all new materials are either natural wood or warm fabrics.

Let there be light! (We have since put up curtains but they're only closed when it's hot.)

Now it’s time for the walls: husband has a gallery wall planned for the living room, I have some knitted hanging pot holders that I’ll put on the wall to get light from the skylight, shelving in the office, and another gallery wall in our room. While we saved the walls for last on purpose, finances also keep us from doing everything all at once. We have a ton of art already, but haven’t made decisions on whether we will paint or where or what color. And we want good quality, real wood shelves, maybe even live edge. Making these types of decisions knowing that they’re permanent, that we’ll enjoy them for many years to come, and that we can change them any time we want, is freeing. In the first place we lived together we painted the bedrooms a dark gray color. It actually worked: our bed had a darker orange cover, the dressers and nightstands were white, and we hung a print of a vibrant sunrise for color. It was serene and cozy. We wanted to stay there for longer, but the owners wanted to move back in. Painting over the walls after only a year hurt my heart, so we never painted again even though we lived in some places for four or five years. Now I’m even thinking I could wallpaper a bathroom.

Chloe would have loved our condo. I wish I could have given this to her.

It feels like we made it. In one of the highest cost of living cities in the country, where so many people come to live that “Cali lifestyle” for a few years then move back to the midwest or east coast when it’s time to buy or have kids, where housing is in short supply and most of the supply caters to the wealthy, having a small piece that’s in our names is an incredible luxury. We’re stressed the fuck out and worried about the collapse of society and losing work and all those small and large expenses that I hope dry up in the next year, but we have more of a stake. Now when I write to my city council, mayor, and representatives I make sure to tell them that I have roots in my city and invest in my community. 

Thankful I can give a home to these sweet buns and that at least one is enjoying the sun and outside.

In another way, I have more to lose, now. The book I just finished (Our Missing Hearts) is set in the US after the most severe economic crisis. With tariffs making food and other essentials unaffordable, a job market that has been rough and getting rougher for years, inflation with no end in sight, and federal agents terrorizing cities and abducting anyone they don’t like and sowing fear and mistrust of people who aren’t white, it feels like we’re headed in this semi-fictional direction. I can understand how people turn more conservative as they age: you want the world you made it in to continue existing. If things keep going as they have been, rent will catch up to our mortgage within a decade, likely sooner. We’ve made this massive bet that this will work out, so it’s natural to want to do what you can to ensure that it does.

But it’s still just a thing and things can be replaced. If society collapses I’ll probably have much bigger problems than the value of the condo. My emergency packing list starts with the bunnies and their essentials, then paperwork, and the only things are either practical like flashlights and a radio or tools for starting over, like laptops and hard drives. I hope that being late to the game when it comes to homeownership means that we’ll hang on to the memory of what it was like to have less. I hope that we’ll always want others to succeed, to move up, to attain whatever dream they have, that homeownership (since it’s the base of our collective dream and the most secure path to a financial safety net) becomes more attainable. I hope we never turn into NIMBYs, even if it means we lose our killer view. I think that living in a condo, which still feels like an apartment except that we pay a mortgage, and being so close to downtown and in a more diverse neighborhood will keep us in this mindset for a while.