Starting Line
New Year, new apartment, and thank heavens only a mile from the clear blue waters of the Pacific. The hustle and bustle of legal paperwork I had to sort through just to get approved for a legit studio California bungalow was enough trouble to make a person go bald by way of pulling all their hair out.
January 1st - moving day and once again, I'd have to hail a Uhaul to drag my belongings from the dusty house to a smaller space with a pool. But I could live with that, the studio was the biggest I had ever seen. Truly - the living room could have added a wall and a door with room to spare. The long hallway led to a built in vanity at the end next to a walled off bathroom. A separate kitchen with counters and cupboards completed the space and I was set for time being.
I dragged everything I owned into that apartment: the headboard, the foot-board, the glass iKea desk, the iKea shelf, the dishes, the pictures and well the guitars & cameras. The property manager, Beverly, gave me the keys to the mail box, the gate and my 1-car garage. But, of course, I didn't care about any of that. I just wanted to unload and see how long it would take me to make it to the ocean. I was in a race for the sand between my toes and I wasn't due to be back to work until Monday.
After about two hours of heavy lifting and probably damaging my back for ages to come, I locked up, hopped in my little Honda and drove down the street, literally - 1.2 miles - to the blue vastness that rushed over my toes. Since it was winter; the ice cold sent chills went up my spine. But I took a deep breath and released. Now, now I felt like I was home with a beach and a sane mind.
I had no outlook on the new year, I just wanted to get through the first month, earn enough to avoid detaching my arm for expensive California living. And at the moment, I was content enough to be staring across of body of water that doesn't stop until it reaches the next continent.
What would come next...
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