Moving In

So apparently Allie had a dog. And not much else.

I hate doing it, but I'm out of cash and I need to stay somewhere. So yeah. I'm living in Allie's old house now. In her guest bedroom. Avoiding the fuck out of hers. I'm not going in there. I don't care if it's been cleaned. It's not like there's anything in there I want to see anyway.

Not that there's anything I want to see in the rest of the house. I think Allie was lying to me about her own money problems. I don't think she could really have afforded to let me stay with her. Not for long, anyway. Judging by how empty this place is. The house is huge. There's just no furniture in it. There's the couch and TV and coffee table in the living room, and a table with two chairs in the kitchen, and the beds, and a little towel rack in the bathroom and a tiny dresser in both bedrooms. And that's it. Overhead lights, no lamps. No shelves for movies or books or whatever. No extra chairs for guests except the one in the kitchen, and I think she bought that for me because it looks pretty new.

I think most of her money went towards the dog I mentioned. His name's Gabriel Hornblower Jacobs, apparently. According to the tag, anyway. Jacobs is our family name. Looks like Allie adopted him or something. He's a boxer. Big dog, but he's friendly. Seems to like me, at least. And his dog house is the nicest thing around for miles. It looks like Allie made it by hand. And there's lots of dog treats around and everything. This dog was her life.

Well, if she adopted him, I guess he's mine now. And I like him, too. So I've got to come up with some way to feed him. I'm going into town tomorrow to look for a job. If there's any to be found in the ass end of nowhere, I mean. I've never seen a town this small. But I've got to pay the bills somehow, so I'm going to try anyway.