Floaty

Hi. My name is Ramona, and I live in an apartment complex.

Situated on the marshes, with a boat dock and river view, it is considered to be one of the more posh complexes in Savannah. Or so I thought.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have what appears to be a floating trailer. I know housing has gotten expensive, but since when did pulling your houseboat up to a dock become an option? Strange sight indeed.

While I’m on the topic of my apartment location, there was a fire a few weeks ago at the nearby restaurant. The night it happened, I heard sirens but thought little of it, this being Savannah and all. While on our usual walk, Lady Buttercup and I noticed a most peculiar excitement in the air. Many of my neighbors had to abandon their cars by the side of the road, since they couldn’t drive over the fire hose stretched from the only hydrant to the fire. I’ve never seen so many people walking around – and being social. It was like a block party, with people filtering out on the docks for a clear view of the fire.

One would think I’d have frequented the place, me being a Florida girl who loves her waterfront dining. However, this restaurant happens to be the rogue agent responsible for the first time I got sick in Savannah. See, they serve hush puppies with a wee bowl of melted butter. Oh yes, we dipped ‘em. Never went back, and now it’s not an option.