Living in the Black Hills

Which I don't. Not quite yet. I'd envisioned living on a mountain top somewhere with my dogs and Max. I know that's a lofty dream in my tax bracket but a girl can dream no matter what, right? So what I really want comes down to shelter and food at this point. I want a roof over my head that keeps me dry; I want unbroken windows and unblemished walls. I want to have my pets in a house that doesn't smell like the previous tenant's pets. I want a food stamp card that works at every grocery store, not just the fancy ones. Ok, I'm joking; I'd only shop at the fancy food stores anyway so it doesn't really matter ;) 
What is in between me and my dreams? My income. AmeriCorps gives more than I can afford to decline even if I do have to live in a tin can for a year just to keep my job: at least we'll be able to keep our doggies. But the place smells like the last guy's cats. There is a cute little cat door in the wall that smells to have been installed quite a while after the cats came in or maybe it was locked most of the time. Sassi fits in it so she'll be free to come and go but Sophi and Troi will have to wait for us to get home. 
I was so dispirited after looking at the trailer park--and it was covered in snow, mind you; I can't imagine but that it looks better covered in snow than bare--that I decided to search for options. My quest led me to Star Village, formerly subsidized apartments at the edge of town and only a few blocks from work. I drove up the hill and my ears popped twice as I approached the drab duplex community. I inquired from the elder gentleman at the desk and he told me in a British accent that he did indeed have a two bedroom super with a fantastic view and yes, I could have my dogs. Rent is $675 or some such number. I asked where he was from and he replied, "Africa; Victoria Falls. Have you heard of it?" "No." "It's one of the 7 wonders of the world! how is it you've never heard of it?" After our small talk, I got the key to the apartment and went to view it. As I suspected from the beige exteriors of the cinderblock buildings, the inside was very 50s as well: wall-to-wall linoleum throughout and tiny tiles in the batheroom. The bathroom window and the sliding glass doors in the living room (called the lounge by the fellow at the leasing office) opened out to a  panoramic view of the city. I was home. I cannot think of a better place to be poor, I thought to myself. I went back to the office only to find out that the apartments are no longer subsidized, so I couldn't live there. 
My only option at this moment is to take the trailer. But I have begun the process to procure a housing voucher that will be accepted by Star Village in the future. I will live on my mountain! Some year.