I'm sitting here waiting for a phone call that contains the bad news. I'm going to hold off speaking of it until I get all of the details. It's nothing catastrophic, but it's not real good, either.
Good news refers to something that I alluded to a couple of weeks ago. I am officially a resident of Brooklyn. One of my friends (a former sublettor AND ex-girlfriend - how's that for a double?) is moving back down South and is giving me her one-bedroom apartment. It's in a cool part of the BK, and it's fairly cheap (meaning that I'm paying less than a grand). I'm going to have a roommate for a few months, and then it's all mine. When I'm not out of town and subletting it to someone else, that is.
What does this mean to my plans to move to LA? Um...good question. I still haven't figured that one out yet. I jumped at this opportunity because it doesn't come along very often. I guess that a fall move is still possible, but, like I said before, nothing more than four weeks out is certain.
I just needed a home, you know? A place to send my mail to, a place where all of my stuff can be, the place I know I can retire to when I finish a gig and not have to worry about disturbing somebody else. I think I'm most excited to get all of my books set up there. They've been packed away in the family basement for so long, and every time I go back to the 'burgh I have to dig through boxes and boxes of stuff before I can find what I'm looking for. No more!
Back to watching the phone, waiting for it to ring.