The Boarding House

It was the early 70s in upper New York. I moved into a little boarding house just outside the gate of West Point. I rented a bed for $3.00 a night - just a twin sized bed in an old lady's house. I was getting paid $1.65/hour at my photography studio job. I shared a room with eight other girls - dorm style (barracks?) - the other girls mostly were weekenders, visiting their cadet boyfriends. Eventually, since I was long-timer, the landlady gave me a tiny room just big enough for a twin bed with a tiny closet. I did not have any kitchen privileges and I had to share the tiny bathroom with all the other girls and was not allowed to keep anything personal in the bathroom. I lived on whatever at the time could be made with a hot water pot. Microwave ovens had not yet been invented; neither was Cup O'Noodles. So I made hot dogs and oatmeal, mostly. There also was no TV or any downstairs privileges - I could only enter by the front door and immediately go up the stairs to my room (once a maid's quarters). I had a little radio that I was not allowed to play loudly. That was life renting a room in someone's house back then!

Flash forward to 2010. I now have a boarder living in my house - I give him two rooms and his own bathroom for $400.00/month. He does have kitchen privileges and brings his kid with him whenever he has visitation. I'm trying to be a good landlady, but it's hard to have someone strange living in your house. I don't think I like the familiarity. Maybe my old landlady was right to keep it all separate.