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Saturday, August 12, 2000

Mom came by today to bring me a few boxes. I'm accumulating so many that I won't be able to put off filling them for much longer. The problem is that most things I don't use never got unpacked from the last move, and I'm not keen on giving up access to the rest of it. Some I can't, because I'll need it for work. Most of it I just don't want to deal with yet.

She also brought a sandwich from Raley's deli. Thank the Golds (who I believe at one time ran a deli themselves) it was on a soft roll. I'm still having trouble with the whole chewing apparatus, but I'm gradually giving it more work to try to get it back into shape.

Carrot sticks, unfortunately, are still out, but peanut-butter-chocolate-chunk chewy granola bars have been reintroduced to my mouth, with moderate success. It's mostly when I forget that I have a big gaping hole in the back of my head that the pain shoots out through my eyeballs. I don't forget for long.

I wanted to show Mom where I'll be living, but apparently the current resident will be occupying the premises until September 1, when I move in. He's some sort of therapist who treats patients there, so I'm loath to bang on his door and possibly startle some poor soul into a relapse. There's enough psychic disturbance in modern society, without my contributing more than my share.

So we just stared at the house from the end of the driveway. I'm sure no one noticed.

It's hot here in Santa Rosa, even on the cooler side of town where I live. It wasn't the ideal day to sweep the patio and driveway, but I'm having company tomorrow. The landlords are bringing prospective tenants through my humble home between noon and two, and I want the place to look presentable.

I've been here less than four months, but not a lot of that time has been spent in upkeep, I'm afraid.

patio, after sweepingI do my best work here.

So, today: clean and shine the sinks, vacuum the carpet, straighten the cluttered countertops. Go through the two weeks of unread newspapers and bury the bodies in the recycle bin. Then take a giant step back and look around for anything else that might embarrass me. Ponder: lounge chair in the living room. Decision: what's wrong with that?

I wonder if the neighbors have been warned that my potential replacements will be checking out the situation here tomorrow. Today wasn't their finest hour.

Cacophonous pseudo-music buffeted the Wall of Sound (distracting me from my chores), while the nominal "adults" in that household gathered on the patio (over the fence from mine), using crude language to tell rude stories, loudly enough to be heard over their stereo.

I put on a CD of my own (David Sanborn, Another Hand) to try to block out their noise, but to no avail. I'm glad Mom had left by then.

How bad is Karen going to feel when she gets voted out and finds out that Curtis didn't nominate her? And that Jamie did? Ha ha ha ha ha. I voted for her for just that reason.

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