Movin' Up

Who needs a house out in Hackensack?
Is that all you get for your money?

I've never given the apartments above me much thought. Except, of course, on those occasions when I have been forced to call the police on their occupants. (Remember the night that trashy girl upstairs broke the window and jumped out to avoid the manic, befuddled, shirtless addict at her back door, who subsequently came down the stairs and rattle my door knob in an attempt to gain access to her apartment? Good times.) But now it seems I'll be forsaking these cool, damp, cramped 360-or-so square feet for the bigger, brighter trappings at the back of the house. Jeremy's leaving, Dean's been evicted, and Mary suspects Kathy will ruthlessly send me packing soon so she can pull off what passes for renovation in her mind. And it occurred to me recently that some agency somewhere should probably enforce some code or other that says Kathy can't rent these apartments in the basement because each only has one exit. Also, there's no foundation. Oops.

So I'm movin' out, but not far. I'll pay $50 more a month for an additional 150-or-so square feet and still not break $300, and all my utilities will still be covered. You get what you pay for. But I've had a look at #2, and it's not so bad: spacious and bright, with old, muted carpet that could be worse, cupboard space I've only dreamed about for four years, and a little mudroom off the back porch with handy peg board on one wall and coat hooks on the other. Plus, I get the gravel driveway at the back of the house- no more shoveling Monte and the Cadillac out after the plows go by. It'll be hotter up there in the summer, but if I have my way I won't be here that long. Oh, there's another thing.

I put in for a job in upstate New York. There's only a slim chance I'll receive even a politely formulated e-mail acknowledging their receipt of my resume and the cover letter my talented darling revised for me (I have a tendency to wax excessively baroque when composing official correspondence). The title is Circuit Rider, and the job description is broad and complex, but basically I'd be doing what Leroy does for Wyoming Rural Water- visiting small utilities all over the northeast to consult about problems and offering technical help whenever possible, arranging and conducting training, and connecting small systems with financial aid and other assistance.

There are other things on the list, but that's the bulk of it. I am at once under- and overqualified, but I'm not sure they're going to find exactly who they're looking for at the salary they're offering. But I'm enthusiastic about relocating to the east coast for a while, having become so enamored with it last fall. It would just take the right job at the right price to get me out there. So there's that.

I'm exercising my iron will and waiting until I have a substantial down payment to order the car. Financial self-discipline is its own reward, and I'm going to enjoy owning the car a lot more when I know I've earned it. So more on that as things develop, too. Seems like it's all a waiting game. As usual.

But Morgan promised me two different kinds of cake for my birthday, and you know how I feel about cake. It's possibly the only consumable I love more than mayonnaise. Or avocados. Mmm. Too bad you can't make an avocado cake with some kind of mayo-based frosting. I just don't think that would work.

And it seems such a waste of time,
If that's what it's all about.
If that's movin' up then I'm movin' out.