On July 1, 2006, Leslie and I joined the ranks of grown-ups by getting a mortgage, a property tax bill, and a little place to call our own.

In the interest of personal identity security, I won't publish the address, but let it suffice to say it's in Wrigleyville.

We live in one of 13 apartments in an old brick building. Our door is the far one in this picture.

This is our kitchen. For realism, I left my running shoes and sweaty shirt on the floor. Leaving dirty clothes on the kitchen floor is one of four nice things about Leslie not living here. The others are leaving dirty clothes on the living room, office and bathroom floors.

This is our South-facing window. Note the flannel shirt carefully laid across the arm of the futon.

The living room from the other corner. For reference, you can see the same carefully placed flannel in the lower right corner.

The office doubles as "my room." I keep toys, instruments and computer stuff in the office.