Saturday, August 25, 2012

Timing, It's All About

Today (pretend it's still Friday) was on the brink of crisis several times.

I was supposed to work an early shift at work, so I could get off early enough to meet up with Todd and sit at home with him waiting for my relocube to show up. But after a night of very little sleep, and restless sleep at that, I overslept until almost past the time I had to get up on my normal weekday schedule, and by the time my shower was over, I realized I was beat, and there was no way I'd be functional on the job at all. I called out sick, went right back to bed, and woke up a few hours later feeling much better and with a lot more time to do what needed to be done.

Work crisis minimized.

I thought I was good until I started back in on the kitchen and found my countertop covered in a puddle of brownish liquid. What the fuck did I spill? was the first thought through my mind, until I realized there was absolutely nothing knocked over, and I didn't even have any brownish liquid in the house in the first place. So I looked up.


Yes, that is two drops of brownish liquid oozing out of the ceiling. This is how much water dripped out between my discovery at 10:30 and when I dumped it out at about midnight this evening:


The landlord has been alerted, and she came over while it was still a very slow drip, when we decided since I was moving my shit out anyway, and a plumber would have to tear out the ceiling to see what was going on, we might as well just watch it over the weekend and get someone in here next week. The dripping has of course increased in frequency over the course of the day, and Todd taped up a square around it just in case the ceiling decided to let out and collapse under the water weight. It's just compressed cardboard, anyway, so I don't think it'd take very much to convince it to let go.

I suppose it's a good thing it waited until a week before I moved out to act up? I'll take it as a sign that this move is long overdue. I'm just going to pray that it doesn't fall apart while I have people over tomorrow moving boxes out of my place.

Apartment maintenance crisis delayed.

Since I was going to be home for the full time period that my cube was supposed to be arriving, I went over to my neighbor's place to let her know she didn't have to be on call for it this afternoon. Hers had already arrived that morning (just when I woke up the second time, in fact), and I wanted to check how it went. "Someone was parked in one of the spaces," she said. Which wasn't horrible, since there was enough room left on the curb for all three of her shipping containers, but I wondered why she didn't have that car towed, since I'd paid the SFPD for the privilege of having them come and put up "No Parking" signs along 200 feet of the street. And then she pointed out that instead of the signs preventing parking from Thursday the 23rd through Monday the 27th, as I had misread, they in fact only blocked parking on Thursday and Monday, not the days in between. I want to point out at this moment that I asked for August 24th -- Friday -- as the first blocking day. I double-checked the paperwork that I'd given them last Friday. It said the 24th. The police screwed up. (Surprise, surprise: this is San Francisco.)  I called and left a message complaining about this, and still haven't heard back from the person in charge. Or anyone, really. I kind of want my money back, though I don't know if it'll be worth the effort to file a complaint.

The parking spot we needed was empty again I got back home from some errands and from picking up Todd at BART, so I parked my car there just in case. The cube came in the earlier part of the four-hour expectancy period I was given, so I was able to move my car just as the forklift came, and help him block traffic while we got it in place. It was kind of empowering. And relieving.

Parking crisis averted.

The rest of the day went pretty much as I expected. I didn't get much packing done what with everything else, but it's close enough that I can finish up in the morning and as people move things out.  The beer is purchased and in the fridge, waiting for me to order pizza to go with it. I have a lock for the relocube, and ratcheted lines to secure my goods inside it with. I got to spend time with someone important to me, and realized just how much I will be missing those people I am leaving behind. It's going to be hard for the next seven days to keep the crying to a minimum.

Time for bed. Tomorrow's gonna be a doozy. Fingers crossed that it goes smoothly.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

A False Impression of Readiness

Question for my picture-nerdy friends: is it worth it to renew my Flickr Pro account? That's $25 a year, which really isn't much. But is there something better/freer that I should be looking into instead?  My account expires on the 28th. And obviously I use it. Just not sure if I use it the full $25's worth.

Dinner tonight was quinoa pasta with hot dogs, salsa and ketchup: the compromise result of having only leftover ingredients in the house, and being not quite prepared mentally for all my dinners to be delivery. I had to force myself to scrounge up even this much, because I knew otherwise I'd be making an emergency pizza call right about ... now. Not sure what it is about the dregs of my pantry being so unappetizing. Except, of course, I guess that's why this stuff is the dregs.

At any rate, that was my reward for finally getting to the real business of packing. I woke up bright and chipper at 8 a.m., rolled back over and slept until 10, and finally got myself showered and dressed by 11 to have at it with the boxing of my apartment. Woo! That's motivated!

Twelve hours, a lot of grunting, and a trip to Home Depot for more boxes later, if we look at one side of my room, it looks like I'm pretty darn close to being completely packed. The closet is empty except for a few things I'll be driving with me and some to-be-shredded paperwork, the bookshelves are mostly-bare, the wine stand/bar thingy no longer is covered in glassware.

Looks great, doesn't it? I feel so accomplished.

And then we turn around and look at the other half of my apartment.


Fuck.  That kitchen's going to be a pain in the ass.

Six days until the house-cooling party and loading of my wordly possessions into a relocube. Less than two weeks left in San Francisco.

What the hell am I doing to myself?

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

T-Minus Crazy

Today on the way to Krav, I realized I'm starting to panic about the move.

It's not so much my utter lack of organization at the apartment. I know myself, I know I'm a procrastinator, and I know I'll get it all done in the nick of time (probably at 4 a.m. the day before my House Cooling Party).

But the whole reason for the trip is being called into question now. Is this the right choice? Am I moving for the right reasons? Will I find what I'm looking for, or is it here in SF about to pop up just as I'm moving out? 

Worse yet: am I running towards my demons, rather than escaping from them?

I don't know why I waited so long to do this move. I've been thinking about that a lot, too. I mean, there were the practical reasons — new position, new nephew, finances, fear of co-dependency. Wait, maybe that co-dependency thing is more of the psychological than the practical reasons for staying here. Did I really want to give San Francisco a real chance, or was I just pussy-footing around the fact that I just don't have what it takes to survive this change?

I think I've already given up what I was most afraid of finding was a false idol. I guess that'll be put to the test.