enid and the man have a house. well, they have a house if the mortgage goes through, the vendor doesn't resort to the kind of dirty tactics the last one did, and the market for kidneys is bullish. (so please don't uncross those fingers just yet.) on saturday morning enid and tm sat in their future living room and signed a stack of papers thicker than belgium.
the house is victorian. (oddly, americans describe the eras of their older houses using british monarchs.) no-one knows exactly when it was built, because the original papers were lost in the 1906 earthquake, but it looks exactly the same as other turn of the century houses around. it's in the mission district, which was built on the ranches of the original spanish-mexican settlers and still has a large latino population. the mission is known as being one of san francisco's sunnier areas, well away from the fog belt on the west of the city - and yesterday it was showing its happiest face. it was 21 degrees and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. enid stood in her future garden by her future lemon tree (laden with fruit) and thought that her luck, after two long years, was changing.