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little girl blue
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Yeah, yeah, even M.B. has begun frothing at the mouth at my self-imposed hiatus. I’m telling you guys; this is why I can’t ever move to new places. I fall into a catatonia only U-Haul trucks can induce. Sorry, honey; I promise to call and divert some of your “She broke up with me! That bitch!” angst into something a little more productive than LiveJournal rants.
Regardless, because of my philosophical differences with my current housing situation and the fact that J.N. is making me jealous with talk of his swank new London flat (ten minutes from work, the lucky little bugger), I’m going to move. And I’m going to have to come to a decision on that pretty damn soon. T.L., one of the main investor guys, called me up unexpectedly last week wanting to know why I’d withdrawn my hold on No. 112. While I did like the floorplan, the lighting sucked. It would have been like living in a cave. And the only issue I have with living on the second story is that I nearly threw out my back trying to move two 21” CRT monitors into my home office, and I’ll be damned if I have to go up a flight of stairs to do so again.
Still, it looks to be a fun week ahead. More visiting of apartments, more scribbling in my notebook, plus a mid-week feed at the park. ASTD Chattanooga is sponsoring a picnic lunch at the Lookouts game, and since I must once again press flesh in the hopes of finding gainful employment, I am determined to enjoy myself, despite the fact that I am well and truly involved with the NHL playoffs at this point in time. (Go, Blues!)
I’m in the middle of three—count them, three—different installations of pMachine, two of which require some serious hacking to work with the current site setups, and I won’t even begin to count how much crap I have to do elsewhere. But I did finally get my ticket to Nashville River Stages and secured myself a cozy room at the Doubletree downtown, and I am going to force myself to buckle down and take a break.
And yes, M.N., I am going for the soft sell this time.