Having just moved to Los Angeles from Boston, everything Californian is new and exciting and a little bit scary. The streetscape alternates between familiar and alien with astonishing rapidity. Sunlight moving up the living room wall over the course of an afternoon is just about the same, then looking out the window at a cloud passing behind a telephone pole starts out all normal until I notice the palm tree next to it. Moving has been an expectedly stressful time, though not without it's great moments.
One great thing: I made extremely tasty cookies last night. One terrible thing: the air mattress we're trying to sleep on squeaks like a balloon being rubbed every time you shift positions. Another great thing: we went to the beach yesterday morning for a morning walk, found free parking, Miriam saw a few dogs and enjoyed the playground. Another terrible thing: When it came time to move Sophie from the hotel to our apartment she had hidden inside the box spring, requiring disassembling the bed and propping it up on an angle, while holding Miriam, who started crying, to sort of roll the cat down towards the hole she had ripped in the facing fabric and out onto the floor to be captured and caged.
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