Woooo HOOOOO!!
I think I found a place!!
--as long as this guy needs a room-mate, that is...
Seriously, this is Reeeeally starting to freak me out a little bit now. I've been all over the place in the last two days, made numerous calls, left a ton of messages, and thus far the only two people that have called me back are absolutely no pets.
I went in and saw two apartments today (only one of which took pets) holy depressing. I swear if I lived in the one, I would hang myself before valentines day. The other one was "ok" with parquet floors, view of the ocean, but about 50% of the size of my current place and a strict "no dogs" rule, so whether it's small or not is rather beside the point.
The craziest part about this is still the saddest part about this, and that's Morgan's health. He's slipping more and more often these days, and not just on the hardwood. His back end crumpled under him while simply walking down the boulevard the night before last.
He got up ok, but it's still just heartbreaking to witness a dog that you always percieve as this big strong beast on an obvious geriatric decline.
Sad and crazy because I'm not entirely positive that by the end of the month, I am still going to BE a pet owner, so all of these 'you no living here wit dat hound!' shutdowns may be for naught.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All that being said... and no matter how obviously negative it sounds, I'm really feeling this move (well so far it's only half a move -- the leaving the old apartment--) to be holding the key to one of the biggest positive changes in my life in quite some time.
Perhaps that "Haran" word dreamt the other night falls into that.
In one definition it simply means "crossroads".
When I first woke up and looked up the word, I also found that some of the story about the actual guy named Haran had something to do with him dying before his father:
Hebrew: haran; i.e., "mountaineer." The eldest son of Terah, brother of Abraham and Nahor, and father of Lot, Milcah, and Iscah. He died before his father (Gen. 11:27), in Ur of the Chaldees.
And since my own family name translates roughly to "man in the mountain", I was all like "ah HAH"
So, I thought I should maybe try to get a hold of my own daddy-o. This I did:
I dug up the old number from the back of some drawer. Ive had the number here for a while. Anyways, called it. Havent talked to him in probably 5 or so years Left a friendly voicemessage
So far, no response. Hmph.
But whatever. Im still trying to remain positive. The lack of my phone ringing is freaking me out a little bit But Im sure one day in the near future this little update window will be in a happy bold, and then 3 or so weeks after that, itll be full of little pictures of my real hardwood floors, my real clawfoot tub, .
I think I found a place!!
--as long as this guy needs a room-mate, that is...
Seriously, this is Reeeeally starting to freak me out a little bit now. I've been all over the place in the last two days, made numerous calls, left a ton of messages, and thus far the only two people that have called me back are absolutely no pets.
I went in and saw two apartments today (only one of which took pets) holy depressing. I swear if I lived in the one, I would hang myself before valentines day. The other one was "ok" with parquet floors, view of the ocean, but about 50% of the size of my current place and a strict "no dogs" rule, so whether it's small or not is rather beside the point.
The craziest part about this is still the saddest part about this, and that's Morgan's health. He's slipping more and more often these days, and not just on the hardwood. His back end crumpled under him while simply walking down the boulevard the night before last.
He got up ok, but it's still just heartbreaking to witness a dog that you always percieve as this big strong beast on an obvious geriatric decline.
Sad and crazy because I'm not entirely positive that by the end of the month, I am still going to BE a pet owner, so all of these 'you no living here wit dat hound!' shutdowns may be for naught.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All that being said... and no matter how obviously negative it sounds, I'm really feeling this move (well so far it's only half a move -- the leaving the old apartment--) to be holding the key to one of the biggest positive changes in my life in quite some time.
Perhaps that "Haran" word dreamt the other night falls into that.
In one definition it simply means "crossroads".
When I first woke up and looked up the word, I also found that some of the story about the actual guy named Haran had something to do with him dying before his father:
Hebrew: haran; i.e., "mountaineer." The eldest son of Terah, brother of Abraham and Nahor, and father of Lot, Milcah, and Iscah. He died before his father (Gen. 11:27), in Ur of the Chaldees.
And since my own family name translates roughly to "man in the mountain", I was all like "ah HAH"
So, I thought I should maybe try to get a hold of my own daddy-o. This I did:
I dug up the old number from the back of some drawer. Ive had the number here for a while. Anyways, called it. Havent talked to him in probably 5 or so years Left a friendly voicemessage
So far, no response. Hmph.
But whatever. Im still trying to remain positive. The lack of my phone ringing is freaking me out a little bit But Im sure one day in the near future this little update window will be in a happy bold, and then 3 or so weeks after that, itll be full of little pictures of my real hardwood floors, my real clawfoot tub, .
mmmm...clawfoot tub.
that's all i can think of.
[and yes, you will see me tomorrow, i expect hugs]