Days 10, 11, 12, 13 & 14 (of 30)

Yeah, okay, so I've not exactly been keeping up!

Let's see, some highlights:

DAY 10: Saturday. Work; not much got done in the way of apartment stuff.

DAY 11: Sunday. We went to Target and bought ourselves a kitchen table with two chairs. They're a light wood color that matches the hardwood flooring of the apartment (except the kitchen is bluish-gray tiles), and the table is round but with two sections which drop down, so it takes up less room and fits against the kitchen window, but could also be transformed to accommodate guests, board-games, or very large plates. Then we built the table. Our first piece of furniture in the apartment!

Also went to the Grove to have a copy of the apartment keys made for me. Mine are green. Whoopee! I got keys!

Yes, Day 11 was a productive one.

DAY 12, 13: Monday, Tuesday. Had both of these days off from work, but there is less progress to report than you might think. I mostly feel as though I spent those two days making a big mess, which I then had to scramble around and clean up in order to prepare for my brief work-week ahead, and so that I'd have a bed I could actually sleep on, rather than a bed that was hosting a lot of half-filled boxes.

DAY 14: Wednesday. One of the two days of work I have this week. I spent the evening trying hard to purge a significant amount of clothing from my closet and drawers. These efforts have met with marginal success, at best. I am such a pack-rat and a clothes-horse all at once. I'm addicted to T-shirts, it turns out. I don't know why. I got rid of four hats far easier than I could decided to part with a single T-shirt. I'm finding that I buy T-shirts in order to commemorate something (my Ashland T-shirt, my Whistler T-shirt) or to express some facet of my personality (my Underdog T-shirt, my John Coltrane T-shirt). Getting rid of any is like trying to determine what photographs you could shred. Plus, they're comfy. However, I do have two pillars of clothes that I have marked for Good Will, so the evening has not been entirely in vain.

I'm keenly aware that I'm talking at great lengths about the color of my keys and my T-shirt psychosis. God bless those of you who are actually reading this drivel. I can't promise it will ever get more interesting, but I can assure you I'm hoping as ardently as you are that it will...

Day 9 (of 30)

DAY 9: Friday. A hugely significant day for me, the male half of the Dynamic Duo, as I put out to pasture the postage-stamp-sized television/VCR combo I've had since I began college and which D and I dubbed "Merlin" (the remote control was named "Archimedes") one sleepless Freshman night; a beanbag chair also dating back to my USC days; and a lava lamp donated to me by Milly, who rescued it from the curb in her neighborhood, only so that it might eventually wind up on the curb in mine.

The giving up of these three items has been like my transition out from bachelorhood and into... well, something else. (I'm not quite married, am I? But definitely living with someone, now.) Milly has always been super-sensitive about letting me enjoy my bachelorhood (even donating bachelor paraphenalia, like lava lamps, to the cause!), and encouraged me to decorate and organize my "bachelor pad" in K-town so that I could enjoy it. And as excited as I am to be moving in with her, I won't deny that part of me is mourning the end of my bachelor pad days. For the past couple of years, I never actually really sat on the beanbag chair, and it was starting to rip at the seams and become deflated anyway, serving as little other than a place to sit other junk I didn't know what to do with. Still, I'm sorry to give it away. The television is easier for me to part with: the VCR part doesn't work, it's screen has been oft-mocked (though not by me) for its diminutive size, and I didn't really watch television anyway. Milly has a much better TV that she's bringing to the deal, but... Hers isn't a major player in Arthurian legend, is it? Sure, you may argue that I could simply name her TV "Merlin," but that's too easy: the original "Merlin" earned its monicker from a delirious night of no sleep in Trojan Hall dormitory -- neither my roommate, D, nor I had any reason to be up all night long (and in fact, I'm quite impressed D managed it!), but by the time dawn spread her rosy fingertips out across the southern Californian sky, we had named beds, desk lamps, televisions, even over head lights after the more notable characters in Arthurian legend. What I mean to say is, there's history there. I imagine the Route 66 signs in my kitchen will have to go as well; ditto the hula girl postcards in my bathroom. What will become of the EXIT sign currently above my door, nabbed from the now-extinct Madstone Theatres in Albuquerque?

There is brightness within this darkness: not only do I now have more room to navigate around my apartment with the beanbag chair gone, but it's also starting to look a helluva lot more like I'm actually moving! I took down frames from my walls, and while there are still some things hanging up, the walls are starting to look a lot more nekkid, and I feel as though I'm gathering momentum...

Day 8 (of 30)

I got up early for this?

DAY 8: Thursday. Of course, I'm parked on the wrong side of the street -- meaning, the side of the street scheduled to be "cleaned" (you know what? Those streets never actually look very clean...) between 8 and 10 in the morning. So, I set my alarm and get up at 7:30, throw on some warm clothes, and walk to my car (just because it's on the wrong side of the street doesn't mean I got a conveniently-located spot in the trade off!) to try and reposition it and avoid a ticket.

So I drive. And I drive. And I drive some more. There is literally nowhere to park. Not only that, but I'm not the only person looking for a place: each and every time I come to a 4-way stop, there is a car sitting at each way, and usually a build-up of cars behind those, all waiting their turn to roll through the stop sign, all eager to nab that miraculous last parking place -- which of course, is always three inches too short. Assuming it exists. And for me, this morning, it didn't.

By this time I'm thoroughly hating my neighborhood and remembering why I'm moving. The remembrance that I'm moving brings me some comfort, but in the mean time I can't just keep circling blocks for two hours. Not with gas as high as it is. Something's gotta give.

Finally, I see a dingy little garage advertising $5 daily parking. So what if it's two blocks west of my apartment, and three additional blocks south? I chance it. Thankfully, I actually had some cash in my wallet. (I used to be the proud owner of six dollars...) And thankfully, I actually found a place in the garage -- on the last floor.

So then I walk back to my apartment, shower, throw some odds and ends into a box, and it is time to hoof it back to the garage, get my car out of hock, drive it back to my block and park on the shiny, newly cleaned curb, so that I can pack it with five boxes full of books, and one crate full of carefully-wrapped breakables.

Milly calls me: she got the keys!

So I jump in my automobile and drive over, find a parking space (oh, new neighborhood, how sweet you are!), and we begin to move in to our new place! We both had books to move in, which we unloaded in order to free up the much-needed (and way too expensive) moving boxes: there is a stack of our combined tomes lining one wall of the bedroom, waist-high!

After all that car-moving, block-walking, stair-climbing, dolly-rolling, and box-schlepping, we are exhausted! Is 7:54 really too early to go to bed? In L.A.?

Day 7 (of 30)

The first week of our transition draws to a close, and I feel as though I've only just scratched the surface of all that needs to be done. I feel pretty overwhelmed at times. It's hard enough being at work, unable to pack; but being home is little better, as I look around my rat's nest of an apartment, trying to decide where to start.

Tonight, I concentrated on wrapping breakable items. Frah-gee-lay... Must be Italian!

Days 5 & 6 (of 30)

DAY 5: Monday. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. What, you expect us to do work on this day?

Day 6: Tuesday. A very frustrating day for me. All weekend long I did nothing to further my progress on the home front, and so I had a hefty "to do" list going for Tuesday. Unfortunately, I was scheduled to work that day, and so I felt like I was being forced to spin my wheels even more. I used a skip to try and call the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, a chore which I thought was no biggie, but ended up a disaster. First of all, the internet connection I was counting on to tell me LADWP's phone number wasn't working. So I called information, which connected me to the DWP for Huntington City. The person at the other end of the line there connected me back to the secretary, who said I'd have to call Los Angeles City Hall in order to reach the DWP (which I don't think is true). So I had her connect me to City Hall, where -- after enduring a chipper recorded message from Mayor Villaigarosa -- I got another operator, who said she'd connect me. For a minute or so I listened to music on hold, and then suddenly the line went silent. I waited for a human voice. None came. Had my call been dropped? After a minute or two of this dead silence, I ventured: "Hel-loooo..." Which was answered by the peevish operator: "Just a second, sir..." Finally I was connected but immediately put on hold (more music). By now, my skip had ended and lunch was beginning. Finally I got a pleasant woman on the line, and told her all about how I wanted to change the electric at the new apartment to my name starting Jan. 19th, and cancel my existing service at the old address on Feb. 9th. She put me on hold while she verified something, and it was while on hold that my cell phone's battery decided to die. I was awfully frustrated, but it turned out that when I got home and charged my phone and called LADWP back, and waited on the line for a little while, my request had been processed. Good!

And then I packed five boxes full of books.

Days 1, 2, 3, & 4 (of 30)

DAY 1: Thursday. Basically we just went to work, pretending to be sick. Took my laptop in to the shop to get a new superdrive installed. (Nothing to do with moving.)

DAY 2: Friday. I worked. In the evening, Milly and I watched disc one of "Extras."

DAY 3: Saturday. Worked again. Milly and I drafted up checklists of things to do. Once we start doing them.

DAY 4: Sunday. Blew $70 on cleaning supplies at Target: caulk to fill nail holes with, trash bags, ziplock bags, Swiffers, a vacuum cleaner for the new apartment, and... Velveeta cheese. Had lunch. Picked up laptop from the shop while Milly shredded papers. Then, we both went over to Staples and blew $40 on cleaning supplies: a dozen boxes, Sharpie markers, bubble wrap, packing paper, etc. Spent virtually the rest of the evening laughing at episodes of "Arrested Development."

Oh yeah. It's on!

30 Days Notice

No, it's not a heart-warming romantic comedy from the people who brought you Two Weeks Notice, this one featuring Drew Barrymore as the pert and cantankerous upstairs tenant and Colin Firth as the grumpy landlord who wants her out -- until he falls head over heels for her!

No, this is real life. Milly and I have signed a lease and forked over a security deposit on a modest one bedroom just two buildings over from Milly's current residence, on the magical Miracle Mile.

First, I'll dispense with the bad news, which is shorter than the good news and less fun, too:

- For $1,300/month, which was at the outer limits of our range, there is no parking space, and our new street can be a little hairy at times, where parking is concerned. However, there are worse streets to try and park on (my current street being one of the absolute worst).
- No pets allowed.
- We've got to pay gas as well as electricity, but we're betting that this won't be too much of an imposition.
- It's a teensy weensy bit on the smallish side, and we're sweating bullets wondering how our combined possessions will all fit tidily, without seeming cramped.

And now, the good news!

+ Hardwood floors!
+ Lots of windows let plenty of light in!
+ Brand new appliances and fixtures, including a clean shower, new sink, clean stove, big refrigerator, etc.
+ Two ceiling fans AND a window unit air-conditioner (this coming year is already gaining reputation as one of the hottest in history)
+ Location, location, location: we're on the second of two floors in the building, at the very back, which reminds me of my current prime situation, tucked away at the back, not the first building to be pestered by riff-raff. Not facing the street, which sometimes is a-clamor with passing fire trucks and agitated traffic
+ While $1,300 was near our outer limits of budget, my share of the rent will equal over a hundred dollars less per month than my current residence! It will keep Milly's rent about the same, whereas if she stays put her rent will cost about fifty dollars more per month.
+ Did I mention the Miracle Mile? I can walk to: The Grove, the Farmer's Market, a quality card shop and gift shop, a Ralph's grocery store, Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, K-Mart, Hollywood Video, Johnny's New York Pizza, Marie Calendar's, L.A. County Museum of Art, a $0.99 Store, Rite-Aide, Walgreens, Smart-n-Final, my favorite little revival movie house in the world The New Beverly Cinema... And who knows what else! Milly has a six-year familiarity going with this neighborhood, but mine isn't shabby either, as I've been spending a good deal of time here over the past year and a half (going on two). It's a beautiful area, one that I'm much more comfortable walking or jogging around than K-Town.
+ A seemingly wonderful building manager, who seems to have her sh*t together (she's an accountant, like mi madre!), and is friends with Milly's current manager, whom Milly likes very much. Our new manager has cut us a lot of slack, including allowing us to have the key to the apartment as soon as we come up with the first month's rent, even if our official move-in date isn't until Feb. 1st, which should prove an enormous help to getting everything moved in.

Which brings me to... Moving out! What a pain in the neck! I, for once, certainly don't know where to start, though my better half probably has more of a game-plan. (I'm also looking forward to constantly being in range of her good influence now that we'll be cohabitating!)

So, my plan for future posts is to count down the remaining thirty days, and giving some impression of our progress. Who knows? It just may prove to be a heart-warming romantic comedy after all...

Blowin' in the Wind

"There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen."
--Raymond Chandler, Red Wind, 1938

**This is the male half of "Bernie & Milly" (better-known to most of you who know us at all, as Brandon & Camile). Yes, we're beginning a blog together. The blog I maintained a couple years ago ("CafeBrando") lost momentum upon my graduation from USC, eventually ceasing entirely; and Milly has never blogged before, so don't be surprised if this new one has a bumpy take-off. But we invite you to share in our high hopes for this new-born blog.**

Wind has been much on my mind, lately.

After a wonderful holiday in Albuquerque, New Mexico (and Lubbock, Texas, too) -- where my brother was growing increasingly interested in Bob Dylan and learning to play "Blowin' in the Wind" on his guitar (among numerous other tunes) -- I returned to blustery Los Angeles, which is possibly being raked by the infamous Santa Ana winds (referred to by my main man Ray Chandler) -- although these winds are quite a bit chillier than Chandler's "red wind" is described.

In his short story, "Red Wind," Chandler picks up on the nerve-wracking, crazy-making quality of strong winds, and that's something I certainly have no trouble believing in. I remember many a maddening windy day in Albuquerque, the windowpanes shrieking like banshees. But there's another side of wind that I've also long been conscious of, and that's an aspect which the recent movie The Holiday hints at: its magical properties. It makes sense, doesn't it? Wind is invisible, which itself is sort of magical. And it rearranges things, invisibly going about its busywork while we mortals cower inside. When we emerge the next day, we find a changed world.

Eric Burdon and the Animals called it the "Winds of Change," and there's much change afoot in L.A. Milly and I decided around New Year's to go ahead and move in together, if we could find a suitable place. So, since we've been back in the City of Angels, we've been leaning slant-wise into the Santa Anas and pounding the pavement for RENT signs in her neighborhood, the "Miracle Mile."

We'll need something of a minor miracle (or a magical wind) to pull this off: as we recuperate from our holiday deficits and as I prepare to go back to school in April, we have only a narrow window of time in which it makes sense to put down a deposit on a place, scramble around to pack up our separate apartments, fork up the first month's rent, and move in. I spent my first night home in L.A. tossing and turning with restless dreams of not quite having enough money to make it work, and being enormously disappointed that Milly and I wouldn't be able to move in together, after looking at apartments and daydreaming of the future and generally getting our hopes up. It might be easy to construe my fitful sleep as a bad omen, a sign to play it cool for a while longer, and stay put. But part of my restless night was due to that damn wind, which was howling around the corner of my (current) apartment, jostling the window back and forth noisily in its frame while rearranging the world outside, and my world in general.

The next day I sat down and wrote out a pep-talk to myself, reasoning things out in the logical light of day, and discovering that this could actually work out just fine. I now feel better, and our apartment search is gathering steam. We've been pleasantly surprised both to discover an abundance of available apartments in the Miracle Mile, and a possibility of getting a nice nest for the money we're willing to spend (which should actually give us both a financial break each month, compared to what we owe currently for rent). I'm thinking this is really going to happen. The question is, when exactly? Or, to put it another way: how many apartments must one couple view, before they're ready to commit?

Well: the answer, my friends, is blowin' in the wind; the answer is blowin' in the wind.

So please, remember us and our search in your thoughts, and send us good vibrations. In return, we'll try to keep this blog up to date, so our progress can be tracked. And meanwhile, as Jack Black says in The Holiday, "Don't blow away!"

(I can't believe I'm quoting The Holiday.)