#cocoran

Sansai Soba, Cocoran

Soba noodles in a bonito broth with bamboo shoots, flowering fern (like fiddlehead ferns), woodear mushrooms, deep fried tempura batter, and kitsune (deep fried tofu).

I found the world's most perfect adorable little house last night for $500; JUMPED all over that shit, and come to find out--surprise-- I have expensive taste. It was a typo. It's $1,500/month. 

...I really, really, really wanted that fucking house. It was a neighborhood over from Twig's and right near the shores of Nokomis in Ericsson. It was perfect. PERFECT.

Maybe it's idealistic of me, but I really just want to be able to find a small, cute, quirky place that allows animals (at least cats,) owned by one person or a small-time landlord, NOT a real estate group, who's looking for a nice, good, quiet tenant who will love my borderline obsessive-compulsive attention to detail and tidiness enough to overlook my abysmal credit situation (the things I learned in college!) if I'm willing to throw in a hefty chunk on top of the security deposit. I paid my rent in college in 6-month increments up-front. My landlord LOVED me. We baked cookies for him. We watched the house when he was in Alaska. I want to clone Chuck and have Chuck II set up shop in MPLS. In an ideal world, this would happen. 

In THIS reality, if anyone knows or hears of anything that they think would match my criteria, PLEASE let me know. This is proving even HARDER than it was to find an apartment in Burlington WHILE I WAS LIVING IN ITALY.

...I just want to live alone with my cat and decorate a small space of my own with my beautiful things and cook my own little broke dinners and tidy up compulsively every afternoon when I get home and am bored and feeling very much like a stranger in the city and maybe get really ambitious and buy a houseplant or two and try to keep them alive.

This is all I want. It's not much. I just need to find someone ELSE who has the space and wants me to be in there, doing all these things.

Ugh. The grown-up parts of life that I forgot I hated.

...I am literally a 1,500-mile-away sob story.