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Overdrive.

Holy shit, I've been busy.

Two weeks ago, I was up at 3:30am for my flight to Cedar Rapids, and I didn't really stop until last Sunday.  Alumni Board meeting Friday, Cornell Homecoming Saturday -- both nights I slept about 3 hours -- and then it was off to Chicago on Sunday after brunch with the family. 

My week in Chicago was incredibly productive.  Being back in an office was great -- particularly this office, which is full of good and interesting people -- and it was nice to feel useful and connected to more than my discreet set of projects.  We successfully managed a crisis of clusterfuck proportions, and after proving myself at least marginally competent, I've been given additional responsibilities for the programs that surround the sacred sites exhibition I've been working on. 

It's a lot of pressure to pull this off on such a tight timeline, but it's interesting and challenging and, most important, meaningful.  Which is all I've really ever wanted out of work.  Paychecks are nice, too.

Still working on a contract basis and still perfectly OK with that.  "As needed" is turning out to be "we need you very much," and that's a good place to be.

Anyway, the only downside to last week was the miserable strain of H1N1 I'm sure I contracted whilst sleeping on the hotel floor Saturday night.  By Wednesday I could barely talk and my whole body was an achy mess.  Probably didn't help that I forgot to pack a coat for the 3-mile roundtrip walk I took everyday to the office. 

Oh well.  Back to normal now, at least. 

And all I got was this lousy voucher.

The major drawback to taking a carry-on to the airport, of course, is that it weighs you down.  Which makes sprinting from the far end of Concourse A to the middle of Concourse C even more miserable than it sounds.

Particularly when the gate to your connecting flight closes in your reddened, sweaty face.

"Sorry about that.  Next flight's at 12:15pm."

Three hours?  Three hours in Detroit?  It might as well be three days.  "But... it's 8:45.  There's nothing else going to Cedar Rapids?" 

"Unfortunately, no.  But here's a breakfast voucher!  Enjoy your layover and thank you for choosing Northwest Airlines."

Right.

My "breakfast voucher" pronounced Northwest's sincere apology regarding an inconvenience for which it wasn't technically responsible and offered me a $5 airport credit to which I wasn't technically entitled.  I headed for the food court, wondering when the last time the Vice President of NWA Customer Relations had condescended to eat anything in an airport.  Five dollars?  Really?  I'd be lucky if I could find a goddamn yogurt cup for five dollars. 

As it happened, I had just enough for a latte. 

Maybe I'll try to get some work done.  $7.95 for internet access, so I better make it worth my while.

Account closed.

I may or may not have spat my disgust on the building as I walked out of Bank of America.

Assholes.

No shirt, no shoes, no problem.

Working from home is not without certain... advantages.  Like the fact that my hours are fairly flexible, and I go for a run in the afternoon or take a minute to blog.  Or the fact that I have no earthly reason to put on, say, pants.  Let alone a shirt and tie.

I have a video conference with the director today, and lots of research to pull together on my Nuclear Nonproliferation project.  (Essentially we're creating a guide to addressing the issue, complete tradition perspectives on nuclear weapons, as well as model responses religious and spiritual organizations can reference to become active on this topic within their own communities.  It's probably what I'm most excited -- and nervous -- about pulling off.)  Then it's off to Iowa on a 5:30am flight this Thursday.  Homecoming Weekend at Cornell College.  And my five(!?) year reunion.  And my first board of directors meeting for the Alumni Association.  (I never get tired of saying that.)

Looking forward to being back on the Hilltop, although the Girl won't be coming with and, consequently, cannot be smugly paraded in front of my former classmates.  It's going to be an action-packed weekend, though, between my responsibilities on the Alumni Board, the work I need to squeeze in, the faculty and staff I need to visit, and all those $1 drafts that require my undivided attention.

After Homecoming and with very little time to breathe, it's off to Chicago -- probably via a 7-hour Greyhound ride, because I'm cheap -- where I'll spend the next week assisting on various matters that need to be wrapped up before the first major program deadline.  Notwithstanding the fact that I'll have to wear pants and shoes, I'm really looking forward to it.  Like I said, being home has its perks, but I would ultimately rather be in an office where I can be around people. 

Particularly when that office is not a law firm.

(Thanks, Manzo.)

Irony.

My (new) sister-in-law just called me.  She's supposed to do an interview in a few minutes about Ludacris's favorite places in Chicago, and needed a good one-liner about him.  

She sounded relieved when I picked up the phone: "I've called everyone!  You're the only person who answered."

Unfortunately, her only lifeline was the one person in her contact list whose Pop Culture IQ is roughly 11.  On the IQ Scale, that registers at "Profound Mental Disability."  Which is a tad optimistic, I think.

Transition.

Saturday, we drove out to Somerville to check out an apartment.  And I just put down a deposit on it.

We like our current place -- we've been here for over two years now, which, after moving ten times in the last eight years, is a personal record for me -- but it's starting to feel a little small.  And we're tired of living in Undergrad Central.  Particularly now that we have a couple of particularly douchey just-out-of-college kids living in the unit beneath us (I called the cops on Friday night because their music was making our glasses clink on the bookcase, and talked to them last night about keeping it down, which makes me feel... old).

Anyway.  The apartment was amazing.  It's a two-bedroom, two-bathroom, third-floor unit of a really nice house on a tree-lined street, about a mile-and-a-half from two major squares (and train stations) in Somerville.  Kind of a trek to walk that far, but there's a bus stop literally one minute from the front door, making downtown Boston a 30 minute commute and Brandeis about an hour if the Girl feels inclined to take the commuter rail rather than drive (during a blizzard, for instance).  Also, it seems like life over there is very conducive to biking.  So I should probably get a bike.

The interior is not to be believed.  Totally brand-spanking-new renovation.  Lots of windows, brand new fixtures, stainless steel appliances.  The kitchen is three times the size of what we have now, is not connected to the large living room, and is an absolute Ode to IKEA.  The master bedroom is gigantic and has hook-ups for a washer and dryer.  We only have one small full bath in our current place, so the idea of having two is pretty appealing.  The second bedroom is pretty big and has either a gigantic walk-in closet attached to it, or a very cozy office.  (Knowing the Girl, it's going to be a closet.)  

All in all I'd say it's at least 50% more square footage than we have now, a significant upgrade in quality, and feels decidedly more "grown up" -- for $50 more a month (utilities included!).

And best of all?  NO UNDERGRADS.  The unit beneath us is a studio, so it's party potential is minimal, and apparently the landlord rents only to professionals.

Oh, and I made sure our lease allows for a dog.  When we're ready.

We were a little nervous about moving across town, to an area we're totally unfamiliar with -- and this will be the first time we're not within spitting distance of the train.  But we decided to take the leap.  I met with the realtor today, filled out the paperwork, ran our credit (which was, to my pleasant but not mild surprise, excellent) and put down a deposit.  If all goes well -- and the realtor, who rents for the landlord more as a favor than anything else, said there was every reason to suppose that it would, particularly because nobody else has been shown the place -- we'll have the keys by October 15. 

I felt pretty horrible when I called our current landlord last night to give him notice.  In fact, I phrased it as a question -- "Would it be okay?  We don't want to screw you over..." -- and would have seriously reconsidered had it put him in a tight spot.  He's probably the nicest guy on the planet.  We have a very good relationship with him -- he's let us stay flexible on a month-to-month arrangement, rather than a typical 12-month lease, since 2008 -- and I'm genuinely sorry to vacate.  Particularly because he'll have missed prime renting season (Boston is nothing if not a college town, and most leases are aligned to academic schedules, beginning September 1st).  But given our proximity to the T and Boston College (and the fact that we've kept the place pristine and it will show 100x better than it did before we rented it), I suspect he'll fill it pretty quickly.

Anyway, now we cross our fingers. And wait.