In Which We Find Shelter

June 29

Rather improbably, we have a new place to live!

Last week we drove by one of the listings, and thought it looked like a lovely place from the outside. It's in a little neighborhood up past Lake Merritt, sort of tucked-away, seems very quiet, peaceful, lots of big houses and trees and bushes, on a hill. The house is an English Tudor, very cool-looking and big, split up into four apartments (that includes one basement apartment). We got an appointment to see the inside tonight. When we got there, the landlady showed us in and let us wander around freely.

It's awesome. For one thing, it's almost twice as large as the other places we've seen, despite being in the same price range. The living room is big (not narrow and rectangular and inconveniently placed, like our present living room), with a wall of windows that get afternoon sunlight. The bedroom is decently sized, with a nice view of the backyard (which is a patio with a brick fireplace, a hammock, a picnic table, lots of plants; all shaded by redwoods). There's a dining room that could easily be a nice office -- that room has a floor-to-ceiling window that opens out, like a door! I find this indescribably cool. I could step out of it and fall one story into the bushes. Whoo! The kitchen is nothing special, but it's no worse than the one we have now. The bathroom is actually pretty big, with a fair bit of storage space and a nice old bathtub (our present bathtub was installed backwards by mistake, so that the faucet sticks out over the gently sloping end, which makes it impossible to sit comfortably in the tub). It's everything we wanted -- lots of space, hardwood floors, lots of light, a quiet neighborhood, shade. We can have two cats, with no additional pet deposit.

We were sitting in the living room, chatting with the landlady while I filled out a rental application, and after a while she said "If you guys want the place, you can have it. I have some other people scheduled to come look at it today and tomorrow, but I can call them and cancel. I think you two would be great." Heather and I talked about it -- briefly! -- and said, yes, we'd love to have it. It's by far the best place we've seen, and we liked the landlady, and the neighborhood, and we really couldn't imagine finding a better place. So we wrote her a check for the deposit, and, boo yeah, we've got a place to live. The former tenant isn't quite moved-out yet (some of her stuff was still lying around), so they need a week or so to get her out and to clean the place, then we'll get keys and we're welcome to start moving our stuff in. Whee! We gave our current landlady our month's notice tonight, and called the other places where we put in applications to tell them we'd found another place. Whoo!

So, no more stressing about finding a place to live before Holly moves out (if anything, she's got the stress now, since she doesn't have a definite place to live yet!). Now we get to stress about packing and moving instead. Which is infinitely preferable.

We'll be in the bay area for another year, now. Living in the new place should make that a pleasant experience.

Got a rejection from Say... today. Too bad. I thought he'd like it. Ah, well. It hasn't been anywhere else yet, at least. I have some other stories I need to send out, too. That's one of the many things on my near-future agenda.

I wrote 750 words of the weird robot collab this morning, before work. I think I tossed some well-flaming rodents at Mr. van Eekhout.

Work was fine. The office is quiet. The publisher and executive editor are on their way to Westercon, and the editorial assistant is on vacation, so we're at half our usual capacity. I got a lot done today, which is easy when it's quiet and no one is around. Doesn't make for a very interesting journal entry, though, does it? But that's what apartment-finding is for. The good excitement.

Words written since February 1, 2003: 72,100

Words written since last entry:
750

Flytrap is coming. Help us buy stickers which which to close the flappy bits prior to mailing.