Straight updates yo.

Last night night the fog came down in sheets and the sky was dense purplegrey wet smoke that swirled and choked the top of the bone-white Victorian apartments and I was back in San Francisco, breathing cold sea air with a frog in my throat along with my heart.
It was heartbreaking to return to the apartment and it's echo, it's barren state. I am a pack-rat clutter bug and I think Michelle and her new housemate Brenda will be very spare comparitively. Brenda is like a zen monk in a couple ways: shaved head and no possessions (except for a house (!) in Berkeley) and no so monkish in others: tiger-stripe tattoos and very cute shoes always. I hope they will be happy living together.
I cried again when I saw Michelle. I've only been gone a week, but I've been through SO much that I feel it's been about a month. I love Michelle so much and I want to try to come to SF at least once every 2 weeks. I'll see how my work/apprenticeship schedule works out.

We move into our new house on Nutmeg Lane tonight. They still have to paint the living room, but the bedrooms are done and so we are anxious to move our beds in, at least, and stack boxes in their appropriate places. The young men that lived there before didn't take care of anything (perhaps it is the college male syndrome of slobbishness due to the lack of mom/maid? I don't know why this is so pervasive, but it's like they ALL grow beer cans in their backyard instead of plants and never do laundry...) but the property manager, Sherri, has been cheerfully fixing everything and it suddenly looks like a great place that I would want to live! Shocker! I am thoroughly amazed by the amount of closet space. I also have my own bathroom with a medicine cabinet of epic proportions and a European hostel shower.