Move

Phil and I both have keys to our respective apartments. My leasing dude told me that I could paint as long as I cleared the color with him. That was so not what he should have told me, because now I am on it. I jump at any chance to make my life more complicated.

Phil's new place is in a very cute area of Cooper-Young, just a short walk away from Goner Records and the Young Avenue Deli and other neat little haunts. The apartment itself is a good-size shotgun-style duplex with hardwood floors and high ceilings and a nice fenced-in back yard with a pecan tree. The floors are worn and the cabinets and appliances are too, but it seems plenty spacious and the real selling point is the location. It's fabulous. And supposedly very safe. So I'm happy for Phil, and I hope the new place suits him.

This weekend we've agreed to attack the packing stage with a vengeance. I don't expect to shower for a couple of days so I won't be tempted to leave the apartment. And maybe I'll find my cell phone while rummaging through my shit. Because I've lost it. Again.