My casita, I should ask someone, but I think it means, "little house", is so charming, nice-sized living room, big fully-equipped kitchen, with eating area, big bedroom, bath, and utility with washer, dryer, plenty of storage space, and a little covered front porch. There are 8 units in the complex, all separate houses with different configurations, stucco finish, walled in with "coyote" fencing and adobe pillars at the entrance and exit. One block off main street, but you hear no traffic because of the many trees and fencing, so, "New Mexicoish, I know that isn't a word, but that's how I want to describe it. I walk two blocks down main street to the Kit Carson (remember him, I'll go into more detail about him later)Memorial Park. There is a walking trail, benches to sit, tennis and badminton courts, ball fields and bleechers, an amphitheater, restrooms, beautiful landscaping and trees, even in this winter weather, and at the back of the park, a small cemetary, the burial place of notables such as Kit Carson, etc:.
The first morning I walked, Wednesday, I got back to the house and was locked out, the screen door having locked on its own. My landlady, Lovey, so kind and nice, assured me it had happened before. An hour later I was inside thawing out, having wished for my tool kit, locked in the car, and Lovey having to go to another apartment to get her tools. Neither of our tool kits were necessary, we finally tore the screen and used a table knife to lift the latch. I leave home now with every key I own, but the screen door has no key, so.
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