Paxtor the Hellhound

 Kris and I have become very fond our what will be our tiny home for the next month. It may be small, but it is well-equipped, centrally located, and ours for the next 30 days. It is about half the size of our Ithaca apartment, which will provide some perspective for anyone who ever visited us there. Here is a picture taken from the balcony. 

Now, to the untrained eye this may appear just to be a standard hotel room with a slightly beefed up kitchen. But do not be fooled! It is an clearly an apartment, as the people at "VisionApartments" will surely tell you. If it looks just like a hotel room to you, clearly you lack the "Vision" necessary to enjoy the splendors that "VisionApartments" can provide. Allow me to help.

See, with a little "Vision" it becomes clear that this apartment has all of the necessary components. Bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, living room, and even a foyer and den! What living! And as the kitchen is the heart of any home, let's spend a moment getting to know it better. 

As you can see, it has everything a kitchen needs. The microwave/oven is actually pretty wild. You just have to be careful not to broil your leftovers in tupperware and microwave the metal bread pan.


As mentioned above we also have a balcony, which provides an excellent view of downtown.

Now, some of you more astute readers may have noticed that I glossed over one of the apartment's primary features: Paxtor. Allow me to introduce him in all of his glory.

This is the view as he watches over you from the livingbedkitchenden. At first glance he may appear just to be a large dog of unknown breed lounging sadly on an American flag, but allow us to demonstrate that this creature is actually so much more.


First, we have Samuel, the sad retriever.

But cover the other eye and you have Paxtor, skull hound from hell.

He is clearly meant to be the guardian of this domain. Much like Santa Claus, he sees you when your sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good or he will tear your soul out through your chest and feed it to his loyal minions.

Now, Paxtor's glare is telling me that it is much too late and I must sleep before another day of apartment visits and micro-oving. Until next time - you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, Paxtor will scavenge the corpses of your young. Good night.