Tuesday, January 2, 2024

My Desert Oasis


Happy New Year. And welcome back. I'm told I now have 9 loyal readers as opposed to the long running gag of 8. Consider this the welcome mat for our newest R17 member.

I ended 2023 on a down note, so I thought I'd bounce back and begin 2024 on a sweet one.

Besides I'm in an unusually jolly mood these days, despite my exhaustion.

Allow me to to back the U-haul truck up a bit and explain. Pictured above is my vacation home in Palm Springs. I can't believe those words are coming out of my fingertips. 

The house used to belong to my exceedingly cranky uncle. Quite possibly the only gay man in Palm Springs with absolutely no sense of taste or design. I have the BEFORE pictures to prove it.

I bought the house from my uncle 15 years ago and rented it back to him. Due to his HIV+ status, he retired at the very young age of 47, way back in 1988. He was one of the longest known survivors of HIV+. I'm convinced he lived until 2020 just out of pure Bronx-born stubbornness. I'm also convinced I've been blessed/cursed with the same pugilistic gene.

The early retirement ate through his savings faster than Chris Christie could get up for thirds at a Golden Corral. So buying the house was a simple way to put cash in my uncle's pocket. And it fit nicely into my plan to have a getaway place where I could rejuvenate myself with ionically charged desert air. 

If you've ever spent time in Palm Springs you know of which I speak.  

After a major re-haul of the house, inside and out, which included more than a dozen trips to gather up all the extension chords, carrot peelers, and enough reams of white paper to stock a small office on K Street, I rented the house to a couple of young guys. 

Unlike my uncle, they had a tasteful sense of design and lived in the house for close to three years. Recently one of them got relocated to Europe, Milan to be specific. We agreed that if they left the house completely furnished I would let them out their lease. And so I have been volleying back and forth to get the house in order. Mostly to figure all the smart technology devices they left behind. 

I now have more passwords than Trump has criminal charges. 

I've also been getting the little things and extras that make the house my vacation home. I still can't believe I'm saying that.

Certain Palm Springs ordinances prevent me saying anything too specific, suffice it to say, my hospitality is an open book. Especially if it keeps me out of a dirty nursing home, wink, wink. DM me for details at siegelrich@mac.com should you also like to enjoy the quiet, calming desert vibe.

By the way, I have an app on my phone that enables me to start heating the the jacuzzi as I'm loading up the car and soaking in the water the minute I arrive. Let me know your desired temperature.

Here are some more unprofessional photos to entice you.






He won't be there, but I had to find a good use for this photo.



 

1 comment:

Ron said...

I must admit....Trump had no taste even back then. And I grew up in NYC and we would see him. No taste in any fashion (use the word as you wish).