A new month, a new home

Algiers by night from the bedroom balcony in my latest home
All the living rooms here make one feel as if visiting a grandparent.

My Gypsy existence continues. Less than three weeks after moving into the Bunker I'm out of it. The landlord has found a long-term resident and so evoked an eviction clause.

I am now moved into the lower floor of a two-story apartment above our office. It's much smaller and a bit more uncomfortable and Del and I both have lost privacy since we share a kitchen and common exit out of the apartment through my living area. But it's supposed to be only for a short time as our company is hunting for new quarters in the wealthy, international Hydra neighborhood. In the meantime, the view out the bedroom and dining room balconies is astounding especially at night.

I sleep with the balcony doors flung open and think of Tara. Scarlett, however, did not have to contend with calls to prayer around 4 p.m. and a chorus of rooster alarms even earlier.

The biggest plus of this apartment is the live-in chef. Del. Fish with vegetables, chicken sandwiches with cucumbers and mint, roast lamb, a western omelet with fresh tomatoes. Ach, I'm getting fatter. While I may not have had luck with men in my social life, I seem to have a talent for finding men who cook great: my ex, Drew and Mexican food and now Del with Caribbean cuisine. And as I've always maintained: food is one of the few things in life that does not consistently disappoint.