Famous Movie Dialog...

... Treasure of the Sierra Madre Division:

That's pretty danged stoopid, innit?  I can just see me droppin' this in casual conversation at Golden Acres Happy Hour: "I got my Platinum Badge in politics at Google News today!"  Whoop-dee-frickin'-DO.

And yeah:  Golden Acres.  That's the name of my prospective new neighborhood.  I almost did a facepalm when I drove over there yesterday but I was... you know... drivin'.

It's Always SUMTHIN' XIII

This time it's in the "day late, dollar short" category... I got a phone call this morning from a very friendly lady at Golden Acres (no, not THAT lady) informing me (a) that I'd reached the top of their apartment list and would I like to make an appointment to swing by and (b) that they'd sent me a letter LAST WEEK that I failed to respond to.  Our conversation was brief but pleasant, wherein I explained I hadn't received her letter since the post office has been much less than efficient at forwarding my mail since I moved and that she should take me off her list, since I had moved, again.  "You've signed a lease, then?" she inquired and I replied in the affirmative.  So we were done.

That's that.  I could have been living in an apartment of equivalent size at literally half the cost had I not been so damned impatient.  I would have had to buy my own appliances but the ROI on that transaction would have been very quick in coming, my best guess being the appliances would have paid for themselves within a year or less.  But... I have the bennies of bein' a first-ever tenant in new construction and I'm not imposing on the gub'mint to subsidize my life any further than they already are, e.g., the Social Security and military pensions.  I think the latter is prolly the best aspect of this New Life as I know it.  I hope I feel that way next year when the rent goes up.

In the meantime... I think I need to go to the post office.  Again.

Low and Slow

Ah, the weekend.  I HATE weekends.  The stores are crowded, teevee goes all to Hell, and people do stuff like mow their lawns at an ungodly hour of the morning and wake me up before I want to get up.  And to think I used to live for the weekend.  No more.  We shall be glad when Monday comes.

So... that said... we're low and slow.  We had one of those miracles of the inner-nets happen to us today, whereby an old, old friend from 45 years ago found us... or rather found SN1 and then found us, there bein' a natural linkage there... and we shall get caught up later on today.  I gave her a ring but the timing wasn't right when I called and she'll ring me back.  One wonders where to begin in these sorta circumstances... a LOT of water has flowed under the bridge since 1966... like three continents, several countries, eight states (at least), two careers, two marriages, three children, seven grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren's worth of water under that bridge.

―:☺:―

We were beginning to think about furnishing an apartment this morning, once the time comes to move.  And there's news on that front, said news bein' I received a form letter from Golden Acres sayin' I'd been put on their waiting list.  I also got a tour of one of the apartments yesterday, courtesy of DIL Erma's Mom (I did mention the lady lives there, right?).  I was impressed with both the layout and the available room, which seems palatial compared to El Casa Móvil de Pennington.  We're beginning to look forward to this move.

Back to furnishings.  I wasted about an hour lookin' at stuff on Ikea's web site this morning... and I say "wasted" because there ain't an Ikea within reasonable distance of me and more's the pity.  I like the look of their stuff and I really like their prices.  But I have some idea of what's out there now but it remains to be seen if it's "out there" in P-ville or The Big(ger) City™.  I'm thinkin' Swedish Modern ain't exactly BIG around here.  I know taste is all in our mouths but that Southwestern School... which predominates in these parts (I wonder why?)... doesn't do much for me, what with its emphasis on large dead animals and old dead cultures.  I don't like the colors, either.  Just sayin'.

Simple, spare, and angular... that's me.  In more ways than one.

So what do I like?  Well, I KNOW you're dyin' to know... so here are a couple o' few pics from apartments-past.

My living room in the San Ramon, CA apartment c. June 2002.

The same stuff sitting in Berkeley, c. September 2000.  I was still moving in.

Two views of the living room in my apartment in Webster, NY, c. 1999.  The furniture is left over from Former Happy Days; I had a different interior decorator then.

Today Ain't My Day

First... We moseyed over to Golden Acres to drop off our application and the encounter was only slightly better than your average visit to the DMV.  There must be something about my appearance that's off-putting to fat large-ish, frumpy plain, quasi-civil servants of the female sort.  

I introduced myself, explained why I was on her premises and then asked the lady if she would kindly look over my app to make sure everything was filled out properly.  She agreed to do so with only a slight shrug of her shoulders and a "what the hell, I don't have anything better to do" sort of expression.  Her eyes narrowed when she got to the income section, whereupon she looks up and sez "you probably make too much money to live here."  "Probably?" sez I, inferring that this sort of thing is an absolute -- either I do or I don't -- so let us not mince words.  "Well, probably," sez she, yet again.  "Your income would 'probably' be too high for a one-bedroom apartment but you'd 'probably' qualify for a two-bedroom at the maximum rent, which is still cheap."

Uh... OK.  I make too much to live in a one-bedroom place but I could live in a two-bedroom place... with extra room I neither want nor need... displacing someone else who makes less but who might need the room?  That makes a lot o' sense... But I forget:  this IS a quasi-gub'mint organization we're dealing with here.  So we have about another three or four minutes of friendly chat (on my part, at least) and then I pick up my things and go.  I wasn't too impressed... can you tell?

Then... We stop by the IGA and pick up a couple o' gallons of water for to make the coffee, that bein' our sole purchase.  Some smart-ass high school dropout bagger-boy asks me if I "need help with these?  I can carry them to your car for you."  "Ummm... no thanks.  I'm good," sez I.  

I could... and prolly should... be charitable and assume the boy was just tryin' to help.  But that brief exchange rubbed me the wrong way, coming hard on the heels of my encounter with the fat lady who didn't sing.  So, not only do I make too much money for an ol' retired geezer but I appear to be too fucking frail to carry two gallons of water across the parking lot.

Dang.  What IS it with people today?

Third... Just in time to break today's string of unpleasantness... we had a brilliant experience at my Local Likker Locker.  "Ah... Samuel Adams Summer Ale, excellent choice!" sez the clerk as I'm checking out.  So there's that and it DID take the edge off.  Somewhat.

Get off my lawn!  No... better yet... beer me!