Welcome to your new life...by the way, the toilets are broken

Well, I did it. I am officially a resident of Brighton again. It is strange that just 10 years ago I swore I would never come back here. It’s not that Brighton was a bad place to grow up, just that I never quite fit in. In a strange twist of fate, I realized a few months ago that the life I had built for myself in Charlotte fit me so poorly that it chafed and I was constantly raw from it. So I did what any corporate burnout on the verge of a nervous breakdown would do. I ran away! Not really, of course, but I did quit my perfectly good/thoroughly soulless job as a financial analyst, sell the house in the suburbs and resign from all the boards and committees I had used to fill the emptiness in my life. My friends all think I should be committed. They simply took exotic vacations to deal with their corporate burnout, they never even considered “throwing it all away”. They see this all as a huge risk, but I see it as the inevitable. I worked my way up the corporate ladder structuring tax credit real estate deals, primarily historic rehabilitation. And now I have taken all that knowledge, purchased an old canal house back home, convinced one of my clients to invest in the project in order to get some more tax credits to off-set his obscene wealth, and am beginning to turn the old place into a bed & breakfast. It is the last property to be restored on this section of the canal. Actually, I don’t think anything else was ever out of use. Across the canal is a restaurant and a bike shop that runs tours along the towpath. Next door is a canal boat tour company. And on the other side a Victorian park.

The place needs a lot of work, but has so much potential I couldn’t pass it up. Last night was my first in Lilac House and it rained. A lot. Mostly on my head. Seems there are a few holes in the roof. I tried all six bedrooms before giving up and sleeping on the kitchen floor. Luckily, the roofers are scheduled to by here Wednesday to start work. The sinks all work, but for some reason the toilets don’t. “Thankfully” the old outhouse is still standing. When I looked at the house there was still one bathtub in place. It has since disappeared. It looks like I may have to make friends sooner than I realized. Driving to the gas station for a toilet is one thing, but joining a gym just to shower is absurd!

Well, I had best see to getting this place in some sort of functioning order. Wish me luck finding a shower.