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The Bond House: We Haven’t Been Murdered (Yet)


Mucha adjusting to his new circumstances with his typical malaise.

I’ve been in Boston a few months now. I’ve survived my first real blizzard (I’m talking drifts up to my knees). I’ve made a slew of new friends and unexpected connections. I continue to fool everyone into thinking that I am a young professional with her life together. Things are going great. Oh, and I moved into a house found on Craigslist with an alarming lack of investigation.

Sometimes you have to believe things are going to work out, no matter what. And, to be fair, the house was advertised as communal/social living meant to establish a family-away-from-family feel in a city that can oftentimes be too busy for it. There were questions that had to be answered, an interview to be had. After Skyping with Claudia and Michael, the house’s proprietors and residents, I had a good feeling.

At the start of the new year, my head still hammering with yesterday’s gin and tonic, my friend Daniel drove me to my new digs (a place I had only walked by and never entered) with the two suitcases I’d been living out of for months. To say that I was a nervous wreak is an understatement. To think I was moving into a house I had only seen in pictures with people that I had never met in person did little to assuage my practical spirit. Of course, anxiety often makes mountains from mole hills.

*I will pause here to mention that my roommates are okay with my writing about them but wanted hilarious pseudonyms. Having given a good deal of thought, guys, I can’t go through with it. We’re not that eccentric. Yet.*

When we pulled up, Michael came out, hugged me, and helped me with my bags. I’ll just go ahead and say this about the house itself: The second I walked through the door, there were stars in my eyes for days. I mean, there still are. Upon meeting the other half of this utterly charming power couple, the radiant Claudia, Daniel and I were treated to a full tour of this historical masterpiece, bottom to top.

While the house is still in a transition state as we get it back to its former glory, there is no denying its grandeur. The ceilings are high, the windows huge, the chandeliers (yeah, chandeliers) glistening, everything is a dream. My room was put together with spring in mind, something evident from the color scheme and duvet cover (thanks for the bed, guys). I have my own bathroom, a luxury I’ve never even considered would be possible for me. I guess that’s true of everything in this house.


A young puggle named Jelly.

I could go on and on about the space and the yard, but that’s not really the reason I moved in. The seduction of this experience is the people who live here, my roommates, my pseudo family. Our arrivals were staggered, making each addition easy and natural. The first day brought the B’s: Brennan and Bailey, a statistical anomaly as we are both from out-of-state, have a cat and a dog (the cat came first, the dog second), and wear glasses. Of course, my animals had yet to arrive, so it was a real treat to get to know Brennan’s puggle, Jelly.

Time marched forward and soon brought Bill (affectionately nicknamed Uncle Bill), who is an absolute riot with a sweet heart. He’s in Florida with his family for a few weeks at the moment, which is to say his presence is missed in the House. Perhaps no more so than by his BFF, Gizem, who matches him in bluntness and hilarity. She’s with us from Turkey for a few months while she finishes up her PhD (yeah, no big deal or anything). It’ll be sad when she goes as I’ve grown accustomed to her turning leftovers into new dishes and laughing at how much Mucha, the cat that used to be mine, loves her.

Not long after came Theresa from Germany who has recently started a Master’s degree program (again, no big deal or anything, I’m just consistently surrounded by geniuses). She’s quickly become a much-appreciated sight at the kitchen table. Her foray into American sodas will never not be funny. Our final addition arrived but a few days ago. A firecracker from Australia, Elzerie. While I have not known her long, it is safe to say that she brings a much needed boisterousness to our home.

To give you some idea of how appreciative I am of this dynamic, imagine this: You go to Thanksgiving. No one makes a scene. Everything is lovely. Funny to think that most of us came to the Bond House fully expecting it to be either a scam, a cult, or a ploy to murder us in a sacrificial chamber. We laugh about it a lot around the kitchen island now, a little joke as we try to convince our friends who find it hard to believe that everything turned out so well. Then again, maybe it’s just a really long con.


The ladies in my life.

As the days have gone on, I still find myself marveling at how fortunate I am to have landed in this position. All it really took was the blind faith that, sometimes, people can be good. Already I have had the chance to meet dozens of new people, go to a wonderful benefit for the arts, and have had countless meals with the loveliest of people. It’s hard to say what this particular vein of my blog will turn into, but I promise that it will be true and just might inspire you to take your own leap of faith.

To the roommates who are quickly becoming my family: Salut.


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