THE LAST FIVE ...

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Thursday, Aug. 7, 2003 - 4:55 p.m.

Time to move on

It's kind of weird when things you've grown accustomed to and, in a sense, take for granted that they'll always remain as they are, suddenly change. When someone up and moves their diary to another site, it's kinda weird. When the parents of your best friend since you were 2 decide they're moving out of the house you had so many sleepovers in and going an hour down the state, it's strange. When the house all of a sudden sells and they're moving by the end of the summer, it's almost like it's all over. I mean, when they come over to our house for Christmas Eve breakfast this year, they'll have to leave at 8 a.m. instead of 8:55 to get there at 9 o'clock.

Matt hasn't even lived in his parents' house for four years. He moved out back then, when he went to Seattle. I, though I moved into my first post-grad apartment in the fall of 2001, haven't yet moved out of my parents' house. My Room is still My Room, with tons of possessions on shelves, walls, in the closet and under the bed. But the next time Matt visits his parents, he'll fly into Philadelphia instead of Newark, and he won't know how to find the house on his own.

You can tell my family never moved, huh? In October, my parents will have been in the same house for 29 years. At the wedding the other weekend, I told Casey's friend Courtney where my mom's childhood home in North Caldwell is. My grandfather built the house and my grandmother moved out 20 years ago after he died. I now live 20 miles from it and didn't realize it. I knew where the town was, roughly, but never knew the house number until last weekend and so I Mapquested the route on Monday. It'll be an evening or weekend drive sometime soon. I wish I could do it tonight, since I'll be going up to my uncle's (mom's brother, so it's his childhood home too) on Saturday, but I've got too much to do. Maybe on the way to work tomorrow, if I leave early.

Disjointed entry. I'm kind of scattered today.

See, I have this problem. When I moved out of my apartment last November, I didn't get in touch right away with the landlord about getting my deposit back. I figured, you know, he'd send it to me since I'd left the forwarding address. Casey and I left a month early, paying rent at two places for the month of November to finish out the lease while Lori remained in the apartment. Skip a few months, I finally get in touch with the landlord about where the hell my deposit is. Well, not actually the landlord but his son or son-in-law or someone who during most days can be reached at the landlord's home number. The son (I'll refer to him as, for short) had changed his cell phone, so I had the wrong number. He said he needed to check his records and would get back to me. Never did. This happened several times, along with the son claiming there was some sort of discrepancy with Betty, the evil bitch who suddenly broke her lease and moved to Florida last August. I asked Lori about all this, and she was stunned, and � all on her own � called the son to find out what the fuck was taking so long with my money. He then got back to me, saying everything was fine and he's put my check in the mail. I gave him my work address via e�mail.

Two weeks, nothing. I call him. He says he sent it, that he'll cancel it and send another. I give him my parents' address. Nothing. It's been two months now. Today, I finally reach him again after leaving a message a day on his cell phone for three weeks. He claimed his phone doesn't work, it rings but he can't answer it and he doesn't get the messages. Yet he seemed to have gotten at least one, so I wonder how legitimate that story is. I mean, even if your cell phone died and you're not so attached that you don't run out to get a new one as quickly as possible, don't you still check your messages daily via another phone? I thought so. Anyway, he sounds all accomodating when I refer to saying in one of my messages that I want to meet him somewhere to pick up my deposit check. He says sure ... we can meet at his lawyer's office.

Why the fuck are we going to the lawyer's office now??? I thought everything was settled. I thought the check was in the fucking mail. I'm out of sorts about this, and I wonder if I should be worried. Is this a problem, or is he just doing it for convenience? I'm prepared to bring copies of my bank statments (photocopies with all the important info blacked out, copies which I won't leave with the lawyer or anything) just to prove that I haven't put $1350 into my account in the last eight months, if ever. I don't know if I'll do it, though. Maybe I'll just be trusting and see what happens, then get some backing of my own if something comes up. After all, I may just walk in there and be handed a check.

I'm just tired of landlords. Our current one has gotten better lately, particularly this week when we finally decided that the stains and peeling paint on the ceiling were getting exponentially worse and there had to be leaking somewhere up there (not like it was our fault, since I'd informed him of it before and he deemed it not a problem). So they came and tore open the ceiling on Tuesday, discovered it was from the shower upstairs, and fixed it. The ceiling remains open for a few days just to be sure it's all fixed and they don't have to go in there again, but it's done and he'll be back tonight to put plastic over it. I'm starting to not look forward to the prospect of apartment searching again, yet then I'll be excited at thinking of the possibilities. The problem is, we have a nice place in a decent house in a so-so neighborhood with crappy neighbors (both in the other apartments and on the block). See the deterioration there? Nice place � decent house � so-so neighborhood � crappy neighbors.

For the moment, I'd love to live here, but we need two bedrooms, which is too expensive. It's a good location (right off the bus to the city, across from the driving range and post office, half a mile to Target in one direction and Whole Foods in the other, still just 15 minutes from work). It has garaged parking, a pool, fitness center, and what I would guess would be an accessible and helpful support staff. But it's a little out of budget and I'm starting to wonder what we'll get within our budget that will fill our needs. Not to mention the moving costs and hassle that first weekend of November.

Well, it'll be OK. I just need some time.

And a nap.

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