This happened back in 2005 when I had started dating my girlfriend Lily. We were living with her roommate John in some downtown pit with a broken window and carpets reeking of cat urine. I made it my mission to get us out of there and into a decent house or apartment. Luckily we managed to find a nice duplex that was close to my work within a few weeks. Things were financially tight for a while, but it was worth the effort. This place had it all, more open concept layout, three bedrooms as opposed to the two we had before. Plenty of room, and the piece de resistance; a bathtub. My girlfriend was ecstatic, to say the least. Our cats were the happiest, living in a clean environment and running all over the place. At first they would get lost in the rooms from time to time and they would mew loudly until we called them by name, at which point they'd come running into the living room. The extra room we converted into a computer room/music studio which I got a lot of enjoyment out of. Lily would paint in there sometimes as well. The place was murder in the summer, though. We got an air conditioner and life was sweet again. The worst thing that happened was the other couple renting the other half of the house had some domestic problems and the guy broke into her house and the police had to be called. Good times. We've all gone our separate ways by now, but it was great while it lasted. Funny thing is I miss the cats more than the ex.
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