Sinking Ship

H and I have always lived in odd homes together, some of them pleasantly so, others not so much. Our first apartment was a block from a Hudson River off shoot, sort of trapezoidal in shape, it felt grand, like the helm of some old noble boat. Our next place had no front door and was truly baffling to access. Enough said. Our home in Japan was utterly perfect, but was also coincidentally a stopping place for the gods, the fact of which was verified by the local buddhist priests. The last place we lived would have been better suited as a bowling alley. And now? Well, this place is most akin to a sinking ship. In more ways than one.