October 1st

I know, it's still almost 2 months away.

But October 1st is my newly self-imposed deadline. On that day I'm hoping to have:
1. New house
2. New job

New house is essentially taken care of. For those of you wondering, Alex and I were actually offered the amazing apartment we looked at on Thursday. It was perfect--good size, great condition, nice quiet little side street. On Sunday we got the email saying we'd gotten the apartment. But, plot twist!, the landlord (who lives below) would need to share the bathroom and kitchen with us due to some sort of legal shenanigans. The landlord was a cool younger guy, but we weren't crazy about the idea of suddenly having a 3rd (and at times 4th, when his girlfriend was around) roommate. So we did the unthinkable in the San Francisco rental housing market...we turned him down.

So then how do I have a place to move into October 1st? I'm now taking a room opening up in Alex's current place at Hayes and Fillmore (.5 blocks from the Full House houses, if you're wondering), waving goodbye to the Mission and its sunshine and burritos. I'm not overly heartbroken about it, as Alex's place is gorgeous, with fun things like dishwashers and laundry (which I'm currently lacking), as well as an enormous kitchen, deck, backyard, and big living room. My future room is a bit smaller than my room now, but with a big closet. It also won't be blindingly bright at 7am every morning, and won't be filled with the street noises I currently hear while falling asleep (for example sirens, crackheads, and drunks). Lastly, I can GET A DOG. My bulldog puppy dreams are nearing fulfillment....

So I guess I just need to get a job in the next 6 weeks. Totally doable, crap job market be damned.

I'd also like to wish Alex a very happy (albeit belated) birthday! Here's to you, future roomie. May your coming year be filled with grilled peaches, kegs of Blue Moon, and many multiple roommate makeout sessions (disclaimer: not her roommates. Other roommates).

On a slightly more serious note, I'd also like to just take this chance to publicly remember my Granny Bell. I found out on Friday that she died last week, at the ripe old age of 92. I was her only granddaughter for 18 years, and I loved her and miss her very much. My dad said it best in his email to me and my brother:

Do not grieve too strongly for her. First, she would not have wanted you to do so; for she was cheery and optimistic in her outlook on life. Sadness had its place, of course, but was also to be kept firmly in its place. Secondly, she had had what we British call a very good innings. She enjoyed a long and full life -- though not without its trials and tribulations -- one marked by love, children and companionship, as well as robust good health until almost the very end, when physical frailty and arthritis became a daily burden. Thirdly, she died peacefully at home. Pamela found her in her armchair, looking quite peaceful, with the television on. As Pamela reconstructs things, she had opened the windows, aired her bed, had a light breakfast and watered the plants in the pots in the front garden. These exertions would have called for a brief rest -- and so she departed this life quietly and in dignity. Such a death we wish not only for those we love, but also for all who have led decent lives.