(For moving updates, see below photos.)
According to the library computer, I have 31 minutes left to tell you how everything went. That is not enough time. Forgive me now for any unchecked typos and dingdong grammatical & spelling errors.
Yo, moving is a nightmare. Why do I have so much shit? Why do I wait so long to clean out a refridgerator? This should be done every 3 months, I recently learned. To my disgust. Spring cleaning was invented for GOOD REASONS. And I've been scrubbing the new place with disinfectant for 5 days straight because I agreed to take the place "as is" (collective groan) because they moved out Friday and we moved in Saturday . . .what's a girl to do. It wasn't filthy. Not at all. They were clean people. It just had . . .life splatters; just regular stuff that everybody, clean or not, overlooks in everyday living. But other people's life splatters turns my stomach to a near faint, and I've been the weird lady with latex gloves scrubbing and contact papering every single inch. I'm almost done.
Other than that . . .the apartment is perfection. It is more than I could have possibly dreamed. It is the most perfect place I have ever lived in my life. I can't post pictures of the place yet because I'm not that magic, but just take my word on it for now. Other than the apartment itself, I've driven my car maybe once in five days. Everything I ever need is within six blocks. Local health food store, coffee . . .even a killer little indie film house that plays different old & some new movies every day. Tonight they are showing A Fish Called Wanda. One detail I will share for now about my apartment: Off of the master bathroom, there is a door that leads to a small, private sun deck. I've never seen such a thing. We never close the door and it feels like we are showering outside. We leave it open at night and before we go to sleep and when we awake we see two, old SM palm trees waving in the ocean breeze and wishing us well. Husband and I are beside ourselves with this heart-swelling detail.
Ok, now for some bad news. We leave for Atlanta on Friday -- in two days -- and Maya has had a viral infection for the past 7 days. Only yesterday was I able to control the fever. I have cried my eyes out over the bad luck. Husband and I came to the conclusion that however weak she may feel or if she is not at her best this weekend, we're going to make the most of the experience. I've seen her do miraculous things in the heat of Taekwondo battle before so I am not entirely counting her out. But god . . . I drove all the way back to Orange County yesterday to see her doctor because I don't know any here yet so that they could tell me: "Hmm, yeah, that's a bad cough." I am not an advocate of antibiotics but I was really hoping she would prescribe something. Nothing. "Let's see how it goes in the next couple days." And, here's the kicker: "Maybe we should xray for pnemonia." WHAT? "Did you hear fluid in her lungs?" I asked. "No, but just in case." What in the hell? I've been angry at Western Medicine ever since. I put her on probiotics instead, and her fever finally caved.
Ok, time's up. Talk to you later.