I’m in California.

The time has come to move out of my San Francisco apartment; the Red Menace has decided that I don’t need to come to the Emerald City so frequently as before and that, as a result, my place no longer makes financial sense. I’ve been in the apartment for three years; I’m one of the two initial tenants.

The first year or so was great. After two of the initial tenants left, things started to go down hill, especially regarding respect for my things and space while I’m not in residence. For at least the last year, I have been vaguely looking for a different place, so my having to give up the apartment is not so upsetting.

When I arrived last night, my chair and a powerstrip were missing from my room. A roommate sleepily (it was 3:30) told me not to be upset at the mess in the kitchen; they ‘had no trash pickup’. A peek into the kitchen revealed that, in fact, bags were piling up.

When I lived in Lakeville and Sharon, I had no trash pickup. Bags would pile up in either the basement or garage and once every six months or so I’d rent a truck and haul the entire collection to the dump.

Ah. Those were the days, weren’t they?

Anyway, so I’ll be spending the next few days packing stuff and taking it to the UPS place.