apartments

I've always liked how it sounds to stay you live in a "studio." Picturing someone poring over books or taking up the violin or draping wild swaths of paint across canvasses - or walls! The unfortunate reality of many studios is that they are tucked away at the end of dark hallways through small doorways and involve going to sleep in your kitchen and finding excuses to go to the bathroom just to have a change of scenery.

In spite of all that, it still sounds more alluring than plain old "apartment," which sounds a lot like "department," which makes me think of work. And apartment-hunting _is_ work, as we all know. I haven't felt as wheeler-dealery in a long time as I did today, roaming all around town with my cell phone at the ready. "6th and Delancy? Let me call you back when I have a better idea of my schedule for tomorrow." "West Mt. Airy Ave.? I can be there at 10:00. 10:20? All right then, Steve. I'll call you when I leave my 9:30 appointment." (Appointment. There's another unappealing word.)

My first full day back in Philly, and I saw five apartments. Tomorrow, it will likely be eight or nine. People seem eager to unload them this late in the month. And I'm finding I may be able to make some deals. The deal I'd like to make would include a bed, a comfy couch, a rug, and a frying pan. But my baseline criteria is just a place with a lot of sunlight.

Sunlight is one of the things I wanted most this past year. I did a good job of finding it, too - along with plenty of outside time. Dancing, farming, roaming. Seems like ages ago when I was eating avocados every day or putting on the same grubby work pants for a week, hauling in pounds upon pounds of summer squash. How adventurous can I be back in a place I've already known? Surprisingly, it requires a lot more courage.

P.S. - Grandpa _did_ win, I baked some chocolate toffee bars, and Austin police have provided me with more than enough storytelling material to compensate for their shady interpretations of the 4th amendment.