[Continued from "We're Home! (Part 1)."]

The front of the apartment has something I’ve not had in a long time either:  A view.  It’s no panty-dropping view, something the Viking had originally wanted when he was talking about moving to Chicago about a year ago.  He wanted to be in one of those fancy high-rises with a view so fabulous that the ladies’ wouldn’t be able to help themselves so taken were they with awe and lust – and the view.

No, our new apartment does not have a panty-dropping view, but I drop my panties for him pretty often.  Actually, I don’t even wear panties, making access to the goodies even easier.

Our apartment’s “view” is just of the street from the second floor; nothing fabulous about it at all.  However, for the last seven years my apartment faced a wall.  The only time I got to view anything of interest was from the roof of the building.  That was nice, but there was nothing interesting to see from the comfort of my own home.

The apartment I had before that one had a view of an alley.  That apartment was in the Tenderloin of San Francisco so there were lots of interesting things to see, like people shooting up, various sex acts, and various things coming out of both ends of people.  While it was interesting to watch, I’m glad our new place looks out on what appears to be an average street.  An average street in an area very close to an urban university, DePaul University, so I imagine there will be some drunken shenanigans to see out the front window.

Having front windows means we’ll be getting some sort of window treatment.  For seven years I lived without any window treatments of any kind since the wall the windows faced didn’t care if I ran around naked.  Also, since San Francisco doesn’t get hot or cold to Chicago extremes, there was no point in window treatments with insulating qualities.

That’s all I had in my last apartment, one big wall of windows that faced a wall.  The new place has large front windows and multiple windows throughout the apartment.  We have windows down the hallway and we have windows in the bedrooms.  This may not seem like a big deal, but I lived for about a decate without a bedroom window of any kind.  The places were loft or “loft style,” which translates to no fresh air in the bedrooms.  I had a fan going almost 24/7 in the bedroom of my last place just for some air flow.

To be fair, right now I have no interest whatsoever in opening the bedroom windows in our new place – it’s too fucking cold – but come spring and I’ll be getting some fresh air while I sleep, dammit!  I’m hoping by the spring I’ll be able to sleep through the noise of the train with the window open.  The remodel of the place did a decent job of sound-damping so while we can hear the trains as they pass, when the windows are closed it’s no problem sleeping through it for either the Viking or me.

If the master bedroom is too noisy in the spring when the windows are open, we’ll sleep in the guest room, which I have dubbed the nap room.  It’s farther away from the train, but even better for napping, it has a window that overlooks our private porch and gets little light.  Yeah, I know “light-filled” rooms are all the rage in real estate, but a bedroom that requires artificial light even in the middle of the day is paradise to me, for napping.  I love me a nap.

The train is kind of romantic.  The Viking says it serves as a reminder that we’re not in San Francisco anymore.  It makes me feel very “urban” every time it passes by.  When I was a kid I wanted to live in New York in the worst way and part of it was the trains in movies.  I still haven’t lived in New York, but I have the train right outside my bedroom window.

At night when the blinds are closed the light from the alley behind the building (and that great back yard) casts a shadow on the bedroom ceiling, and when the train passes by its lights flash.  The shadows and lights are a nice visual treat when looking at the ceiling, which can happen when trying to go to sleep, or, say, when on one’s back fucking.  And the sound of the train covers the noises one might make when fucking, or coming, or fucking and coming.

Because this new place means I might have to be a little quieter when I fuck.  I know, such a shame, but I don’t want to be a complete asshole to the new neighbors.

I swear.  True story.

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