The inhabitants include a cat and a rabbit. The rabbit is confined to the linoleum areas of the kitchen, unless supervised, and tends to be rather despotic and demand vegetables and petting every time you come into the kitchen. The cat is a waif that my roommate took in some time ago; she has a name, but she only pays attention if you say "Caaaat" in a high-pitched, plaintive, wail, much like her own. She is a orange and brown calico and extremely tiny, and also extremely friendly and "talkative." I think she suffers from narcolepsy; she certainly sleeps more than any cat I've seen -- but she likes to constantly be next to whoever is in the house and she also likes to lick people's noses if she possibly can. If you come in, or go out, or say anything, or turn on the light, or make an unexpected noise, she will speak, and she almost speaks in sentences. My roommate and she have long conversations very often. At the moment, the inhabitants also include a colony of fleas, so everything is covered in diatomaceous earth. Apparently the cat had fleas when adopted, and though we put flea medicine on her and the rabbit, they didn't leave the house. They don't bite us and are becoming fewer by the day though.
There are two couches and futon mattress in the living room, and I sleep there. My roommate has the bed on the floor of the bedroom. (It is nice to be on the floor again). The room is painted a cool blue, and feels very airy, even though it's only barely at ground level. There is also a desk in the bedroom in a corner under the window, and my little corner shelf with all the gods and goddesses and an incense burner. There are funny jutting ledges all over the two rooms, which we use as bookshelves, and the walls have photos taken by my roommate, and gorgeous art R. has drawn and there is a beam that goes at a 45 degree angle from the wall to the ceiling that we have covered with colourful chunnis. There is an enormous walk-in closet in each room and we have two dressers. There is also another desk in the living room, but at the moment we don't have a chair for it, so I tend to use the other one when I am writing by hand, and we just use our computers wherever we are sitting at the moment. There is suddenly, miraculously, a working internet connection in the house.
The kitchen is a tiny, much like the one in Galesburg. There are lots of cabinets but no drawers, so cutlery and knives are always getting in the way. We are going to put everything in big yoghurt containers or something, and put those in the cabinets I think. It's hard for more than one person to cook at once, but we manage to cook at least once a day and we have a cleaning schedule that seems to be working fairly well so far. (I think my house in Chicago was much cleaner, but I resented doing every single thing there; here it is more cluttered, but we argue about who *really wants* to wash the dishes or sweep the floor, not who should be doing it this time). We share groceries and cooking, which is an enormous relief after living in a perpetual Cold War about which shelf of the fridge belongs to whom. We tend to eat a lot of rice and lentils and an absolutely insane amount of chickpeas, because M. is always worrying about getting enough protein I find it a bit ludicrous, but maybe she is right to worry about it; my entire family (except me for some reason) suffers from anaemia.
So, yes, this is my life at the moment. Expect more updates soon about talking parrots and the SF transport system and the beach and the flowers and the crazy crazy hippies.