It means next to last. We decided not to renew the lease at 492 Tarpon which means our share house finally will come to an end despite the lure of sunsets like these.
Tropical Storm Henri didn't leave us a lot of time to get sentimental. I swam in the bay on Saturday morning after a voluntary evacuation order had been issued. Randy recorded the essential difference between two of his housemates.
Thom, Randy & Varick caught the 7:45 p.m. ferry after early crab cakes. I'll miss Varick's cooking, that's for sure.
The skies cleared late Monday afternoon, with enough time for a walk on the beach. Braving the rough surf was easier than actually catching a wave.
I poured a leftover Cosmo upon returning to the house. Drinkin' alone is a bitch!
The house still looks great in these shots, but now that quarter shares are what one longtime real estate agent calls the "coin of the realm," as many as 28 people a month fill--and damage--it. And like most landlords, ours prioritizes rental income over maintenance. That white umbrella is ripped to shreds, as are the door and window screens, giving flies and mosquitoes free rein to say nothing of the plague of ants in the kitchen. Partying tenants have reduced the number of functional chaise lounges from eight to three. The mildewed deck furniture sags. And garbage collection is a nightmare. No bueno, at least not at a cost of $22,500 for five weeks, our "discounted" rate.
Thom returned early Tuesday. He mixed a fresh batch of Cosmos. We drank them in a new spot, just above the bulkhead.
I took what likely will be my final walk to the Sunken Forest via the Grove on what may have been the sunniest, hottest day of the summer.
After a sunset overdose, we relocated our cocktails and deviled eggs to the beach. "There won't be any more evenings like this," I said wistfully.
We're leaving the Pines to younger bucks.
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