We'll start in the bedroom. This is where the magic happens, folks. (Ok, so this may be a bit of an exaggeration, as the only Doritos I've had lately are of the quite literal variety. Luckily my rabbit and I are still getting along like gangbusters. So it's ok, take your time, boys. I'll be just fine.)
Check out the terrarium-like picture windows (the better to see you with, my deer):
And now my (walk-in!) closet:It has three sides, and room for all my shoes!
Bathroom, with skylight (that I regularly check for peeping Toms and Tomasinas, because that is just the kind of freak I am):
...and living room (with "cleverly" disguised trunk-o'-winter clothes as coffee table -- two birds with one stone!)
...and the kitchen (or den of domestic delight. No? Ok, just kitchen).
I call this my portal of happiness:
There is also a deck and patio furniture and a grill that I didn't get pictures of because I felt a bit silly and worried that my neighbors who share the deck would see me and think I was a Russian spy or something.
So, this is it, this is my place. It may not have the grace and one hundred year-old charm of my Cambridge apartment, or walking-distance proximity to a boulangerie, like my house in France, but it does have my name on the lease. And my name only. And for the next eleven months, at least, that makes it just about perfect.