The last couple days have been different. Tuesday I went to the doctor. I went in for a check-up, the kind you feel like you should bring roses and breathmints to. I was not prepared for the 50s style physical though where I learned I have scoliosis, SI joint disfunction, post-nasal drip, amongst other attractive maledictions. I was getting ready to ask the doc to just get on with it because every time she laid her hands on me another affliction surfaced. I was waiting for someone to roll a walker in for me to leave the joint. Or, worse, show me down the hall to the extended-stay suites. So, that was a neat way to feel old and a fancy way to learn I have bad posture, tight IT bands and a disagreement with the breeding season of Oregon's flora. I left in a flurry of productivity that was instantly funneled towards trying to figure out how to get to Best Buy. I could see it... I just couldn't find the road to get me there. I burned 30 minutes and probably a gallon of diesel weaving around industry, swamp and airport hotels. Only to find out Best Buy charges $30 for a plastic film to protect one's iPad and left empty-handed on principle.

Wednesday, at work, I finally felt like I hit my stride, or something at least less awkward than the gimping, sniveling creep I'd been the previous six shifts. I talked. I drove a bit. I joked. Finally I felt like I was regaining some sense of humanity/confidence after the previous 9 months of training and wintery isolation with Suzy and Charlie. Not that I don't talk to them, they just don't think my jokes are funny so I sort of lost my touch. That was nice and helped me close out my first month of probation feeling a little less toadlike than it began.

And then we're at Thursday, today. It started with a drive home to let the poor dogs out, only to lock them up again and jet down to Clackamas to sign on the house. The title lady scribbled a number on a piece of paper and shoved it across the table to me. It took a minute for it to register that that magical number was something I was supposed to be wiring to them immediately after I signed my name (middle initial included) four thousand times in about fifteen minutes. Because the house closed a week early I was short half of that amount as it was not in electronic lightningspeed wire form, but rather, old-timey, touchable, forgable check form. I tried to keep my cool, and learn how to input an L between my first and last name, and left in a frenzy of fear, damp with the kind of sweat you only get if you haven't showered and sweated profusely without physical effort. The Housing Center sure did have my checks and sure could not wire the funds instead. So, there was much pocket-turning and couch cushion spelunking for me to come up the funds on my own, but I finally returned to the title company to hand over my checks and tell my unsympathetic new friend that I'd sure like to see that chunk of change again once they cleared. Then I went home to wait. At 3:15 Jamie texted to say she had keys for me. I'd crept around my house being mildly productive but mostly nervous. Some cleaning had taken place and much pacing. After the third drive of the day down to exit 14 I had two pieces of cheap metal in hand that had cost me more than I care to think about, now or ever. And, somewhere thirty miles to the southeast, was a doorknob enjoying the quiet of the afternoon on a cloudy hillside.

I came home and packed two rooms in the evening, played chase with the dogs, drank some homebrew over the fence with Shelley and Larry. In the last days of living here on 157th I've talked to Shelley more and more and realize how much I'll miss being able to get to know them. But I hope to maintain that connection. They have been the kindest and most supportive strangers I've ever met and I would love to know them better as friends.

One last thought, I called around with some local phone companies to find out how much it would be to set up service. They were unsure who's jurisdiction I was in and one company took it upon themselves to drive to the house to get a physical spot on it. The gentleman on the phone called me three times to verify the address and to let me know he didn't think it was there service area but he'd find out whose it was. He called me back once just to let me know which company I should contact to start service. Then I had a follow-up call from their (small) office an hour later to check and see if I knew that company had changed names and did I need their number. Going through so much effort to help out a competing company? I didn't understand but I sure did appreciate it and let them know.

It's a little sad to pack, as it always is. But, this time I'm going off to get to know a place. Real well.

Need to get to know a place real well.