Moving losses to date:
- 1 yoga block
- 1 can suntan oil
I suppose I could go to yoga classes with a coconut scented block, but the grease marks might prove deadly to myself and to anyone else on the studio floor with me. So my partner got a job with a Silicon Valley giant. He says I can post about it publicly, but until I know what their blog policy is for employees and family, I am not identifying it here. Moving is daunting. It’s always daunting. It makes me wonder how in the hell I managed travel in a foreign country. I think that the secret is, at some point, you just embrace the stumbling. Right now we have a corporate-housing apartment. It’s part of the me and the Giant vs. me and California dynamic I need to figure out. California – the Bay area – seems to welcome me. The minute I got into San Francisco airspace, a psychic event happened; the land and city together had a request for me. It’s like California itself invoked me. Omens welcomed us:
Yet every time I get into Giant-space, I feel like a non-entity. Like the brand-spanking new corporate housing we are staying in until we find a long-term place. It’s clearly meant for Mike – but no consideration was given to a life partner. A roommate, sure. Either that or this is a weird land where couples sleep in separate beds a la 1950s television. I’ve nicknamed it the Vinnie Van Lowe suite because everything – everything – is black and chrome. For some unknown reason, we got a “complimentary upgrade” to a two bedroom two bath. There are exactly two of us. It is a furnished apartment – so there are two beds here. Maybe excessive bathrooms are now part of my karma? I have zero understanding of the logic behind said upgrade. I am assuming that they just had to give away the designated one bedroom in a hurry or something. There is only one desk/workspace which Mike claimed (going back on his promise to let me have home workspace precedence, though perhaps he just meant that for the permanent place) and when I attempted to order pizza, the place around the block didn’t recognize the address because it’s too new. The complex it’s in is sort-of heavily gated, with interior walls, and a combination of interior and exterior hallways. None of the windows have screens, which is weird to me. But then, aside from a lone housefly I saw at a Jack in the Box in June, I rarely if ever see insects around here. I’m told Southern California is a different story. It’s fine with me. Bugs squick the hell out of me. Six legs squick me, even butterflies, so that’s fine. I’ve driven by places like this in the Twin Cities, Northwest Indiana, elsewhere and wondered at them. I’ve wondered at the packaging of them, how they always seem to have a slight, sterilized swank to them, how they always come with upper middle end chain stores and high end boutiques on the bottom. Now I’m in one. That’s going to take me time to process, even though it’s not permanent. This is so far from what I expected from my life that I need some time to reframe a lot of things.