Oh, dear friends. There will be a time for abstract thought, for careful consideration of the world around me, for discussions of the books I’m reading and the movies we’re seeing and for nifty recipes. Now is not that time, though. Barring weather silliness, in exactly two weeks from this moment, Lloyd and I will be in the air over eastern Pennsylvania, chasing the morning across the country, landing in San Jose somewhere around lunchtime. Between now and then, we have packing and accounting and clothes-shopping and eye-doctor-visiting and a whole other raft of tasks that leave me incapable of much beyond simple subject-verb constructions. Actually, if I remember both the subject and the verb in all sentences that follow, it’s a good day. The mighty have fallen, and far.
As my boyfriend Gordon once sang, I’ll tell you what’s what, I’ll tell you what’s what. Two weeks ago, life chez PTMYB was not happy. My severance from LuthorCorp was just about gone and my unemployment was about to dry up. I had no word whether or not my student loans had been approved, much less when (if) they would be disbursed. Lloyd had had a series of job interviews for possible transfers to his company’s San Jose office, but none of them led anywhere. Our apartment hunting had yielded nothing. I began to wonder if maybe I had made a catastrophic mistake, if we should have stayed put, if I should have gone to Boston and just taken an additional loan to cover both my living expenses in Boston and my share of the rent in New York.
I am well aware that the best way to suffer a reversal of fortune is to crow about it too loudly, so I will not. I’ll just say that the unemployment benefits have been extended. The loans came through and will be disbursed at just about the time we need them most. Lloyd had another interview on Friday, and this one looks good. And—oh, mercy, oh, luck, O Time, Strength, Cash and Patience—we have an apartment. Specifically, it’s a house, one half of a duplex. It’s one bedroom, and not quite as big as some of the other places at which we looked, but it’s twice the size of our current apartment, it has plenty of space for us (even more space since the landlord agreed to lease us half of the garage for a shockingly competitive price), it’s close to all of Lloyd’s mass transit commuting options (both bus lines and Caltrain). It’s three blocks from school and eight blocks from my part-time job. It has spectacular amenities (which will be meticulously documented once we’re moved in). It has been checked by my legal advisor and deemed good. The landlord is friendly, outgoing, and willing to answer our zillion questions. For the life of me, I don’t know what we did to deserve this apartment, but once I find out, I’ll be sure to keep doing it.
About the only less-than-perfect thing about our new place is that we won’t be able to move into it until the end of August. That’s allright, though. We have a room at a hotel in Fremont for a week, long enough for us to find our feet and go take our driving tests (for unlike New York, California won’t just let you turn in your license and get a new one). At about the time that Lloyd will need to be commuting and I’ll need to be closer to campus, we’ll be moving to another hotel in San Jose for two weeks. That’s three weeks in hotels. We can handle three weeks of hotel living. I guarantee, though, that on the day we move in, I’ll be unpacking my cookbooks and pots so fast that little trails of flame will litter my wake. Then, dear friends, the fun really starts.
First, though, we have to pack up the kitchen.