Considering there'd be less wear and tear from kids, the lower cost makes sense.

I was looking at a new place that just went up for 55+, and for a smaller place they wanted three times the month rate! But they have a dining room and an ice cream parlor and stuff like that, so the money for that has to come from somewhere. The floor plans looked like those skimpy designs you see for cheap cruise ship cabins.

The best part of all the ghost stories, IMHO, was Zenkitty's friend pouring the ghost a cup of coffee and then returning to her book.

She is the most unflappable person I've ever met.

People these days know nothing about witches!

True, I imagine. That's a great story, Rick.

I'm loving the ghost stories.

I got a 30% discount for having more than 30lbs of stuff! I actually saved money by

hoarding all that shit for years and years!

This is why we hoard! For the savings!

And after that is the scary closet.

ooo, does it have a ghost in it?

I found myself looking at the 55+ apartment complex.

If the price is right, those are great.

If my mortgage wasn't underwater, I'd consider one of those places, too. What I like is they often have a schedule of group activities. I need something like that to encourage me to get out of my cave.

Some of my friends live in an 55+ mobile home park. They got married at the club house - rent of 25 dollars. The pool is beautiful. The Group socials- not so fun, but as we take over the park they will be.

And go Tom ! with the decluttering

and home shredders - the only way to keep them from jamming - pay a lot of money for them

Late follow up to the ghost convo, we called our entity P.G. for obvious reasons. As soon as he got a name, the tension went right out of the relationship.

"Stop being something that could possible involve me!"

Oy. If only. It feels like so MANY situations just lay in wait for me to stumble upon them to behave responsibly.

Once, when Taylor and I were camping, I began to freak all the way out. Seriously jumping out of my skin. Taylor was furious when I forced him to pack up and leave in the middle of the night.

As we pulled up onto the highway, we passed a small, white dog sitting in the road. Taylor did not want to stop but I was hysterical. It came to pass that the little dog had been run over and was slowly dying in agony.

If we had tried to move him from the top of that mountain, it would have made things so much worse. These were the days before cell phones or gps. We could not have found a vet or even anyone to ask.

I took out my gun to put him out of his misery. (Yes, when I was married to a cop, I was required to keep a gun to hand. Never since.)

My husband would not let me do it, for fear I would miss and do more harm. Despite my declaration that I would stand with him, he demanded that I get in the truck and hide my eyes.

As soon as the shot rang out, I felt the most amazing sense of relief all through my body I have ever known, before or since.) It may not be that the creature asked for my help, but he sure got it.

Bless Taylor's heart. He was a hero.

Poor doggie, but so lucky you and Taylor were there.

t edit I swear that every time I read something like this, or some sad story (or sad story with an uplifting ending) about an animal on FB, I get up and go hug Kato. Which is hilarious since he likes hugs about as much as I do.

Heh. I have the same impulse and Cagney loves attention, but not hugs so much.

On a vacation many years ago, we were traveling the back way from Vegas to Arizona because Hoover Dam was closed (this was before the alternate route around the dam). It was barely dawn. Friend and I were in the front seat and Hubby was asleep in the back. We were working our way through the windy desert roads when Hubby bolts upright and yells "Pull over, pull over!"

Friend immediately coasts to the shoulder as we come around a blind corner. Fifty feet ahead of us, a pickup truck is on its roof. The people from a car that had been coming the other way were helping a girl out of the truck cab. We'd have slammed into all of them if Hubby hadn't yelled.

Being the days before cellphones, the other car drove off back to the nearest town to alert the authorities. Hubby, former cop and fireman, grabbed the flares he always carried and put them out up and down the road. I sat next to the dazed and bruised girl in her ripped up nice clothes. She'd been driving to meet her boyfriend and had fallen asleep. It was his truck, and she was crying about that. I told her he'd be happy she was alright.