Check This Out---Trading my Brother's House on Craigslist, Or Trying To

Just helping my brother out, I figure, and, the only kitten I adopted out this weekend, was the result of a craigslist post about them. So, I shouldn't be dissing craigslist for sure. And maybe craigslist will be my housing salvation.

It's been a long long weekend, waiting on that phone to ring on the ad for kittens I have in the paper and it hasn't rung. Long lonely weekend. Disappointing weekend. I had so hoped they would all be gone by tonight and in homes.


Former Corvallis Resident Seeking a Way out Of Albany

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: hous-763089853@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-07-20, 7:03PM PDT




I am a cat woman. I trap strays for spay/neuter and foster rescued kittens. I want very badly to return to Corvallis, am not adjusting to the mentality over here in Albany and the lack of open space and hiking parks.

Am seeking a small house with yard, which also can be small, to rent or that the owner would trade for this house in Albany, with my brother's involvement, since he owns this house.

I lived in Corvallis for almost thirty years. I find myself in Albany now, living in my brother's house. He will sell it or trade it for a house in Corvallis, even a small one.

I want to go home, to Corvallis, back to where I can enjoy nature again, back to where more people fix their pets. Albany is just one big piece of concrete with cars and trucks roaring around. Also, lots of meth addicts, gangs of kids, crime and no recreational opportunities to get away, to de-stress, like in my old home town of Corvallis. This is also the unfixed pet capital of Oregon I think.

Here are the pluses of this house, if you are interested in a swap: great for cat people, overhead run through garage, from house to garage room and outside of that, is a contained cat yard, with stone patio, grass, plants. Gardening area available inside contained fenced yard, and outside it. Two bedroom house. All electric. Producing cherry tree also in yard. Many windows. Quiet neighborhood.

Seeking in trade: small cottage, with yard in Corvallis or on the perimeter, or rural, in forested or country setting, but not surrounded by grass seed fields.

Well, anyhow, that's the ad, above.

There's been a group of kids, skateboarders, who have yelled obscenities at me now and then ever since I moved here. I don't know them. Usually I'm in my car driving down the street. It's getting old.

I'm sure they're just frustrated also. But what to do. It's not like I feel like yelling obscenities back, but it sure is getting old. Ok, by now I do feel like yelling obscenities back at them. That's disgusting I would feel that way.

I guess they don't have folks who teach them not to behave that way and maybe their folks are drunks or addicts like so many kids, who have to basically raise themselves. I'm not making excuses for such behavior, just trying to figure out why. I guess it's just the ambience here, and accepted behavior. I don't know.

There are not a lot of healthy recreational opportunities around here. The kids probably feel it too. Oh boy, I can hear the conservatives now saying people should find their own recreation that it isn't a job of cities and counties to create parks or recreational opportunities. Oh I can hear it now. It's like my father is resurrected and he's saying it right along with the conservative men, in unison, who hate government of any sort unless its something that benefits them. I can hear it now. They're probably right, but hey, a hiking park would benefit me, and I too am a human being who likes some things and not others, and I can say what I like and wish for, just like you can.

Here is something I have observed, a generalization.

Conservatives love wars and liberals love social programs.

Neither work as intended. Neither ever work as intended, but nonetheless, they are clung to, and cherished, wars for the right, and social programs for the left, like imaginery lovers, like blow up plastic doll lovers, like proudly lettered calling cards for each side, carried in the small snap open case and slipped in the crack between a closed door and its encasement, rather than wasting the painful idea of a knock. The soul reduced to a couple inches of paper and some clever words.

You know what, if there were no countries, no lines in the sand, no bombs, no gods believed in, we'd still fight. Some big dominant wannabe something more would start making up rules, his rules, to live by and the challenges would come, with fights and words, and finally blood.

Because aggressive controlling behavior boils down to biology. Hormones. We're animals.

Dress it up in nice words all you want. War is testosterone and codependent estrogen.

Let's just spay and neuter everybody.