Maybe that’s pessimistic — my apartment is half full: familiarity, but not family, arrived on a semi truck yesterday morning. The Websters came by to help me set up my television and stereo, but Donald’s headache got suddenly flattening, and after some time on the floor, he requested that I stop fooling with various bits of electronics and return to their apartment for video games — in this case Lego Star Wars: The Complete Sagas. I slipped back to my apartment after through warm night air.
Tonight I went with some coworkers to the Poor House Bistro in San Jose. I had an enormous Po’ Boy with everything on it and met the new guys from France. The weather was perfect for sitting outside and listening to a random “blues” band. Then, home to unpack and wish I had some dishwasher detergent. (Yes, I can just run to Safeway).
The weather, although perfect for a lazy evening on a patio, was a little warm for unpacking, so I finally broke out my swim trunks and took a dip in the pool. I emphasize that because I don’t think that I have ever expected to say that, but it was what it was: two or three short laps and some treading of water. Just enough to quietly re-baptize me Californian. This is home now — despite the peculiarity of the place.