Moved in

I'm not sure how many muscles there are in the human body, but I feel every one of them. Thirteen hours, a muggy 90 degree day, moving out of a third-story apartment - I needn't say more. I'm at our new coffee shop around the corner on a beautiful August morning with Annie and Silvi, and we are so happy to be here. The move, though exhausting, went off without any major problems. We had the help of Jon P. (thanks - how are the arms? King size bed anyone?) and a guy I had only met once, Dan G. A friend of the Halls, he came through when my not-so-fit body nearly called it quits for the day. He saved the day, running up and down the three flights of stairs.

So we're home, the cat is exploring every new corner, and we're feel like this is somewhere that we can stay for a long time. At least a year or two.

New apartment

(click map to enlarge)

We filled out an application for a new apartment (here). We find out later this week if we have been accepted. We are moving to a very nice community called Linden Hills, only a few blocks from the water. Although the apartment is a little small and lacks the charm of our old apartment, it's clean, a two-bedroom, and steps from nice shops, cafes, bookstores, and the beach. We haven't started packing yet, and we move on saturday. I want to back a pickup truck up to our third-story window and dump everything into it. Annie is not excited about that idea.

Let chaos reign

We're moving sooner than we expected. We have to find an apartment in the next nine days. I suppose if NASA can launch the space shuttle on schedule, we should be able to find a two bedroom flat quickly. Oh, wait...

We never met

One of the great evils:

"The loneliness of modern man before men whom he associates with but does not meet."

Yesterday one of the staff at my company who has worked here for nearly five years quit. He and my boss got into a heated conversation where the employee lost his cool, packed his stuff and his leather chair and walked out the door, throwing his keys on the table.

I followed him into the parking lot, hoping to dissuade him, but his mind was set.

We all work in separate offices. Most of the time our doors are closed, and it is possible to go all day without talking to another person. I have worked here two years and have not been in everyone's office. We have a staff of nine. I don't know most of my co-worker's last names, nor do they mine.

Five years. I barely knew this 50-year-old man, but I liked him. No one else tried to stop him from leaving. Not the two guys in the offices next to his who had worked beside him for those five years. Not the office manager who had daily contact with him.

They all just let him walk out the door, then resumed their routines.

The tragedy is that most spend their whole lives amongst those they never meet.

Get out

They knocked on our door at nine in the evening with a piece of paper telling us that our building has been sold and we need to find a new home. They are turning our apartment into condominuims, for sale to the highest bidder. And so we are homeless, again. We have some time to look for a new place, but that is not the point. We like our home. Our coffee shop. Our evening walk. Our park. Our worthless video store on the corner. Our chinese take-out restaurant.

The home of our first born.

We'll find a new home but, man, am I tired of moving.