Day 195: Moving out

Saturday, 6/15/2019

Up about 6; look out; no newspaper in the driveway. That’s as it should be. Later today I expect to find my newspaper on the floor in front of the door of #621. Made my coffee, dressed, sat for a short while to drink the coffee. Then launched into the Saturday to-do list I’ve been curating since about Wednesday.

First up, strip the linens off the bed and start them laundering. Fold the colorful crocheted bed cover we made (hey, I crocheted at least 1/5 of the squares!) and set with other soft things to be packed.

Strip the mattress cover and put it in a pile with both pillows, to be discarded. Under its cover the McCrosky mattress looks good. I hope that Bill, the buyer of the bed, will take it with him tomorrow. Organize all the crap in the bathroom. All medicaments and supplements in a single bag. Toiletries and blah blah arrayed around the sink. All the little drawers opened and emptied. Finish coffee, put cup in dishwasher and start it. Several other things.

About 7:30 I had pretty well cleared the list. Looking at the plants on the porch, I noticed that two of them — shit, I cannot remember what they are, common name “Chinese something”, big green leafy things that thrive in indirect light — are kind of flopping out of their pots. Their stems have grown and want to lean. They could easily flop around and break during transport. Check online: Summerwinds nursery opens at 8:30.

Then I work my way through DirecTV and into myATT and find the customer service number, and cancel my DirecTV service. Shavonda, the rep, is very pleasant. Toward the end she is telling me I can return my AT&T DVR anytime in the next few — hold on there, Shavonda. I bought this DirecTV-made HDR-2 myself from Amazon.com, when we switched to hi-def about eight years ago. Oh. Well, it shows here that when you first started, a long time ago, you got a DVR from us. Well, I seriously doubt that, but if I did, it is gone to I don’t know where. Well, we probably don’t care it being so old and all, but… and she kind of leaves it hanging. If they bill me for a DVR… I’ll probably just eat it.

I drive down to Summerwinds and buy a bundle of 2-foot bamboo sticks and some plant ties. Stop at Peet’s for a cappuccino to go. Back home, I stake the Chinese wossnames in their pots. Then move a couple of boxes of video and computer related parts including my new XFinity DVR and modem, to the car, rather than having the mover box them.

Laundry and dishwasher finished; I fold the linens and stack them with the other linens and towels that may or may not sell. Empty the dishwasher and put the few mugs and utensils I’m taking to my mini-kitchen, in a designated section of the kitchen counter.

And it’s 9am and nothing more to do but wait — for the movers at 10:30, and for the L.L. and her Ex coming sometime to do a foundation inspection.

When I weighed myself this morning I was 170 and a fraction. In the fall of 2018 I noticed that my weight was down to 175 from (probably) about 185 a year earlier. That was pretty clearly due to stress and irregular meals while dealing with Marian’s illness. The past few months it has been fluctuating between 172-174. This past two weeks I’ve lost another 2 pounds. I am almost down to the 169 that I considered normal when I was in college. I feel perfectly healthy; so I’ll put this down to the stress of the impending move. It will be interesting to see if it pops up in July after I settle in.

At 10:15 the movers rolled in and went to work. Three young guys, tall, muscular, talking among themselves in some middle-european language. They are fast and thorough. They wrap every small object in paper. They tape every box on every seam. They wrap every piece of furniture in quilts, tape the quilts down, then wrap that in plastic sheet. Despite all the wrapping, they are done and the truck is loaded at 12:40. They head off for lunch, I go to CH to pick up my key and see the room for the first time in a month.

It’s pretty much how it should be. First: the morning paper is right there. Let’s hear it for the SJ Merc circulation department.

However, I’m supposed to have black-out curtains in the bedroom, and do not. There’s a bodged job of mounting a bar in the kitchen closet. These things to be taken up with Angela on Monday. Also, in the kitchen I have only a plywood counter, no sink. In the bathroom, ditto. Some of the cabinet doors don’t open; this may be because of the missing counter top, or rather, the temporary plywood counter top.

Nevertheless, the unit is just as pleasant as I remembered it, bright, airy, with a great view to the East where I can just make out the profile of Mount Diablo. I have been left a tray with some brie and crackers and a champagne glass, and in the fridge is — a bottle of champagne! Nice. Also, useful, the brie and crackers, since lunch service is just over. I nosh on cheese and crackers, and the movers come through the open door at 1:30.

Luis, from the maintenance staff, also arrives then. Since the bed parts aren’t up yet, he starts on my cafe table and chairs, then abandons them to attend to a problem with the building HVAC system. The movers keep bringing stuff in, and I keep directing them to put things here, or there, which is difficult since most of the load is square boxes with minimal notes (“Living room”) written on them.

Eventually the bed parts are in and Luis returns with a partner, and they set to work.

It’s very complicated and takes the two of them over an hour. Meanwhile I finish assembling the two small chairs and the cafe table, and also the armchair. I also open all the boxes. Some of them I move to the deck to be dealt with next week. Some I move to different places and partly empty.

At a certain point I email a panorama of the general look to Amy the designer who helped me plan the furniture.

The panorama mode makes it look weird. Also I’ve added and moved stuff since, but that was the basic living room arrangement and it’s quite comfortable and inviting in real life. I need another piece or two, especially a bookcase for the small number of books I still have, and/or some kind of shelving to display decorative objects that are still in a box. But basically this is it.

When the guys finish the bed I thank them lavishly and they go. (N.B. tipping is verboten at CH, so at least I don’t have to worry about should I have tipped or not.) I make up the bed with the sheets provided, and my new blanket and pillow, and the old crocheted bed cover. I realize I stink, and take a shower. The shower is OK. I dress in clean clothes and go down for supper at 6:40.

While I’m eating I get two things on from Chuck. First is, he has forwarded to me a voice-mail that he received from the other agent. (I didn’t know you could do that!) In the voice mail the agent, Lynn, explains in vague terms that Daphne was expecting to get “a certain signed document” from her ex-husband, and she has not received that document, so she can’t go forward with the deal. In a follow-up text, Chuck says he is “just deeply perplexed” and “It sounds as though their divorce has some loose ends which were not revealed to us.” Oh, yah think?!? It was the same ex-husband who came with her not once but three visits. It’s all just — this is highly unprofessional stuff from a woman who’s supposed to be a partner in a law firm.

Chuck and I will meet tomorrow at 4 to plan what to do next. Obviously we are not going to accept any more tentative or conditional offers from this buyer. If she came along and said, OK, I’m ready to put the full agreed price into escrow and sign now, no ifs or buts, fine, I’d take her money. But nothing less than that.

After supper I set up my Comcast modem which is providing me with sparkling internet access right now. I did not attempt to set up the new DVR, in part because the splitter that Comcast gave me, to divide the cable between the modem and the DVR, has a male input, while my wall plug has a male output. Splitters don’t do gay sex. So tomorrow I need to get either a short piece of coax or a splitter with a female input.

Also I’m a little bit tired, can’t imagine why, and I’m going to go and sit up in my new bed and read and hopefully sleep.

Day 193, Shustek, realty, bed, TaskRabbit

Thursday, 6/13/2019

A strange emotional thing this morning. As I was starting my drive to the Shustek center for a day of artifact work, I was thinking about the impending move, and suddenly I was full of emotion, sadness, grief. I was driving down 101 wiping my eyes and cursing that I didn’t have any Kleenex in the car.

I’ve been cruising along, staying on top of the situation, managing the logistics of buying furniture, packing, scheduling, like a boss, and while occasionally feeling unfocused anxiety, not any strong emotion. And suddenly this business of moving house was a major thing. I couldn’t talk about it without my voice getting husky and breaking. It’s like grief for my lost partner, but now for losing a home. Or, as I wrote back on day 3 or 4, another big shard of the old life falling away.

Well, you can say this for grief, it sure clears the sinuses.

At Shustek, Greta asked me to do packing. After new objects come in and are cataloged, they move to the “need photo” rack.

Tray of seven happy artifacts waiting to be scanned

After they are photographed, they move to the “pack” rack. Now small artifacts get stowed in acid-free cardboard trays, which get stacked in acid-free cardboard boxes and, after all the bar-codes have been scanned so we know what box every object is in, the boxes will get shipped to the Yosemite warehouse for shelving.

The last time I did this work was seven or eight years ago, when the museum was packing the whole collection for the initial move to the Yosemite warehouse. It’s a nice Tetris-like puzzle game. The objects may be in this tray for many years. They shouldn’t be touching each other, because over time plastic can weld onto whatever it touches. We use archival bags and bits of foam to ensure that, and to keep them from moving. We test movement by tilting the tray 30º each way, nothing should move.

So I did that for three hours plus a break for lunch, then I had to leave early in order to meet with Chuck and Deborah at 3pm. Chuck had not met Deborah before; she was recommended by someone he used to work with but this was their first meeting. They got on well; I imagine he will call on her to manage client sales in the future. Chuck and I discussed the L.L. and her husband. He still isn’t sure what motivates her. She’s pretty tightly wound, apparently. We just don’t know if she is going to go through with the deal or will have a panic attack and pull out at the last minute. The last minute would be 5pm Saturday, when the time mentioned in the acceptance letter expires.

Chuck had just gotten a text from the other agent, saying that L.L. and her ex-husband slash architect wanted to do one more walk-through and inspect the foundation — on Saturday morning. I said, if they don’t mind stepping between guys moving boxes out to a van, sure. So maybe I’ll get to meet her. I’m not worried about them looking at the foundation, there’s a good story to tell there, about having it repaired and the house bolted down in 1990.

We talked about what to do if she does bail, and scheduled the day of the big estate sale with Deborah, for July 6/7.

About this time Bill, a client of Deborah who wanted to see the bed, arrived. He looked at the bed, gave me $200, and we arranged he could pick it up Sunday at noon.

On Wednesday I’d emailed Angela to confirm having Facilities help setting up furniture on Saturday. Today she wrote back saying I could have two hours of free facilities time and somebody would be available 2-4 Saturday however, the person might be called away if there was some higher priority item to do. What?

So now I tried to set up a TaskRabbit arrangement. But Angela said, they don’t allow outside workers without a Certificate of Liability Insurance. Now ensued a period where I texted back and forth with the particular “Tasker” I’d chosen, while myself delving deep into the TaskRabbit.com website, trying to find the elusive C. of L.I. He thought he’d found it, but it was at a URL that could only be opened by someone logged in as a Tasker, not by a Client. Eventually he sent me a screen capture of the document, which I forwarded to Angela, but by then it was after 5pm.

Later that Tasker just canceled out of the job. I restarted with another, but at 9:30pm he had no more luck at finding the elusive document. He said he’d try to get back to me by tomorrow at noon. Meanwhile I sent a late email to Angela stressing I would want a Facilities person between 2 and 4 Saturday. I figure if I also have managed to qualify the outside contractor by then, fine, there’s work enough for both.

I may end up assembling my bed by myself, and will be rather grumped if that occurs.

Day 192, A/C repair, FOPAL, Elton John

Wednesday, 6/12/2019

Last night I had good results from the Yelp “get quotes from several vendors” system. Three of four HVAC companies responded to my request for repair of the condenser fan. Two said, maybe next week or later. But one said, “Thursday” and then said “Maybe tomorrow”. This at 10pm!

With no A/C, the only way to get the house temp down is to open all the windows, set the HVAC on “circ”, and wait for the outside air temp to go down. Which it did only very slowly (where oh where has the onshore flow gone?). It was past 2am when I felt any need to get under the blanket. At sunrise the outside temp was 73, the inside 75. They were pretty well equalized by 7am, so then I closed the windows and drapes. The house is quite well insulated for an old building, and it will probably stay under 80 until mid-afternoon.

Now (8am) I’ve nothing to do but wait for (1) a callback from the HVAC company and (2) the arrival of the appraiser, and Chuck, around 10am.

8:40, yelp message from the HVAC (Herz Appliance Repair) that a repairman is coming between 10-11am. I am pleased.

The appraiser, a cheerful guy about my age who says these estate-related appraisals are 80% of his business, rolled in at 10. He busily measured the house and took a page of notes, and said he would email me the PDF in a week or so.

The repair guy came and in two minutes had spotted a large capacitor in line with the compressor and fan, which had bulged and melted in a most dramatic way. It took an hour during which he spent a lot of time on the phone getting advice from somebody, but he replaced it and the system works again, yay!

I spent 3 hours at FOPAL tending my computer section and sorting. During which Chuck texted that the L.L. and her ex-husband — who apparently actually is an architect! — want to have one more look, around 7:30pm, ok? Oh, ok. No, wait; Deb had said that a buyer for the bed would come at 6:30. So I texted her, and she texted back that the buyer had never gotten back to her, “Craig’s list flakes” she grumped. So there was no conflict; L.L. could come ahead.

I had somehow skipped lunch, so about 4pm I went to the In-and-Out burger place on Rengstorff and had a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake, nummm, as both lunch and supper. Then home for a brief nap, and to pick a movie to go out to, by way of passing the evening away from home. I picked Rocketman, an Elton John bio-pic because it was nearby and started at a convenient time, 6:30.

The movie was a rather sad downer, in that it very convincingly portrayed Reg Dwight’s loveless childhood and his miserable loveless life up until he put himself into rehab. It had about the steamiest man/man love scene I’ve watched. It would have been steamier than usual if it were a hetero sex scene, but with nude guys… Well, that’s just me, the innocent who (apparently unusual in this day and age) doesn’t watch porn on his computer.

Also unlike music bio-pics, and here I am thinking of Bohemian Rhapsody which I watched just a few weeks ago, Rocketman did not have a lot of emotionally satisfying musical performances. It seems to me that in Bohemian Rhapsody, in between all the drinking and sex, we got to watch several complete, or nearly-complete, Freddy Mercury performances. In Rocketman there is just one real “wow what a great song” scene, when Elton first performs “Crocodile Rock” at the Troubador in L.A., the breakout performance that made him a star in the U.S. And even that one, they cut short. All his and Bernie Taupin’s other great songs are done in snippets, or as accompaniment to big production numbers.

The movie only gets happy in the closing credits, when it shows you the real Elton John and recaps his career since getting sober, “28 years and counting”, his charity work, etc.

During the movie Chuck texted that the L.L. and her ex were done, and things still seemed positive.

Day 191, power out, stuff, painting, condenser

Well, last night was interesting. About quarter to seven I was watching TV when I noticed red lights reflecting on my walls. Looked out, there’s a fire truck parked in the street. And just then the power went out.

I joined other neighbors on the street. Pat and Rich down the block had noticed fumes coming from a transformer on the utility pole opposite their house. They called various numbers and got no quick response, so finally they called 911 and got a fire truck in 5 minutes. The fire crew were standing around looking at the fuming transformer (like a 30-gallon oil drum up at the top of a rather high pole) when the power went out for our block.

The P.A. Utilities arrived a few minutes later, as one guy in a van. He looked up at the pole and talked into a mic. A few minutes later a truck with a cherry picker arrived. This guy went up in the air and looked at the transformer close up. And came down and talked on his mic for a while.

I went back in the house. It was now too dark for reading print. I read on my laptop for an hour, by which time there were two utility trucks, working different poles along the street. So I went to bed. As on the previous night, our Pacific Ocean cooling breezes failed to come in. It was still over 80º at 9pm. Expecting the power to come on, I lay on top of the bed in my clothes.

At 10pm the light came on! I had just sat up when it went off again. I looked out; the utility guys were still working. At 2:45am I got up to pee; they were still working, now on a pole across from my house.

At 4am the lights came on to stay. There were still two Utility trucks and several workers. Hats off to the P.A. Utilities for working all night. This morning I see there are what looks like new transformers on two poles. Mind you, each pole has wires coming off in several angles to serve different houses. It is no joke steering the bucket of a cherry picker up through that to remove and replace heavy pieces of equipment — in the dark. Good work, guys.

Tuesday, 6/11/2019

Owing the heat I decided not to do explicit exercise this morning. Instead stayed in and took care of more minor to-dos.

I went around the house clipping the Virginia Creeper tendrils back from the windows.
I went on eBay and found somebody selling old-style (TO-5) transistors and ordered a few to replace the ones that some visitor pocketed from me (Day 188).
I made PDF files out of my Medical Power of Attorney and Advanced Health Care Directive documents — the same documents I need to hand in at C.H. — and emailed them to the people named in them as my representatives, Dennis and Darlene.
Then I went on the DocuBank site. This is a site where you can file your medical info, and you carry a card with your user id and a PIN, and any provider can download your info. I checked; yup, it had my old Advanced Directive, naming Marian as my rep. So I uploaded a new one.
I went out to the Comcast/XFinity store and picked up my new DVR and cable modem boxes, and stopped at Fry’s to buy a digital audio cable.

Somewhere in this flurry, Deborah texted to find out when a buyer could take my bed. I said, I don’t need it after Saturday. Could they get it Saturday? Um, no, I’m gonna be kind of busy; is Sunday OK?

Chuck texted; the Lawyer Lady wants to come by “with an architect” to measure the house inside and out to make remodeling plans. Could they come at 2? Oh sure why not. So at 1:45 I left and for lack of a better option (in hindsight I can think of several) went to FOPAL and did sorting for 2 hours.

Then at 4 I came home, changed shirts, and drove to CH for the 6th Floor Meeting and supper after.

This meeting was helpful in one way. CH encourages people to hang their art on the hallway walls. The wall outside your unit is your gallery space. You are supposed to identify your prints and paintings with your name on the back, but there are many that are not identified. People die or move away, their relatives don’t pick up their art (or don’t care), things collect.

There is a large painting of a lighthouse just opposite the 6th floor lounge where the meeting is held. Agenda item 1, Craig announced, is that one of the residents would really like to have this for themselves, as the wife grew up near the depicted lighthouse. The painting has no name on it and nobody has claimed it. Would the assembled meeting be willing to give the painting to so-and-so. Aye, so moved.

Next, what to hang there? Someone had offered a painting of the Stanford Quad. A picture of it was passed around on Craig’s phone and nobody much liked it. Well, I have my Linsky painting of Yosemite Valley and had been wondering where I could hang it for public view that would have adequate light. I put my hand up and offered it, and later passed around its picture on my phone. Everyone liked it, so that’s done. On Saturday it can go straight up on the wall opposite the lounge.

After supper I looked at my phone and found Chuck had texted about the L.L.’s visit. One, it wasn’t an architect she’d brought, but her ex-husband! Looking for his OK? Apparently he approved, anyway. Two, the $50K deposit has been wired to the escrow. That doesn’t mean the sale is locked in, she could still pull out, but it’s pretty solid. And three, oh by the way, while they were there, they noticed the A/C condenser smoking, and pulled the breaker on it.

See the first paragraph of yesterday’s post! Did I jinx myself? I put the breaker back and tried the A/C. I could hear a relay click, but the condenser fan doesn’t turn. The condenser is pretty old — I could go get the red binder and check, but why — so not a surprise. I went on Yelp and did the thing where you request quotes from multiple vendors. Hopefully I can get it fixed this week.

Day 190, early bird gobbles worms left, right

Monday, 6/10/2019

This is the first day of the week leading up to my move to Channing House. Also the second day of a heatwave. Yesterday the A/C started up for the first time this year. I was pleased it seems to be working fine. I worry about something expensive breaking before I can get the place transferred to its new owner.

Due to the promised heat I started my run at 7:30, and was back in the house about 8:40, which is the hour when I usually set out, in cooler weather. Showered and shaved I started into a to-do list. Item one was to plant out the Bathroom Plant. Long boring story here. For decades we’ve had some kind of green plant in a nice pot behind the basin in the bathroom. There’s a triangular space just right for one. For the last, oh, decade? it has been a single plant, some kind of a thing that grew up in a single stem putting out radial shoots with pretty finger leaves, kind of like a miniature cannabis. Every couple of years it would get too big. Marian would ruthlessly whack off the top six inches, throw out the bottom, stick the cut-off top in fresh potting mix, and it would grow up again, a single stalk with pretty leaves. Last time she did this, I took the bottom with its root ball and planted it out in the back garden.

OK, I’m moving out, the new owner will likely demolish and rebuild the bathroom (at least, that’s what Chuck would have done as part of “staging” the house, had we got to that), so the plant needs to go. I took it out of its pretty pot; put that with the other pretty pots to be sold for two bits each, if that, in The Sale; dug a wee hole next to its previous incarnation, which is thriving in the back yard, and stuck it in. Good luck, little plant.

Next up, the wax plants. These are sentimental favorites of mine. They started from a single cutting that Marian’s long-time friend Lolly gave her. They’ve been hanging in two windows for at least a decade, surviving on a single, weekly watering, putting out copious blooms of their tiny amethyst and white flowers a couple times a year. I want to take them with me to CH, just for nostalgia’s sake, but how? It is possible to have pot hangers put up but it requires scheduling a facilities person, and also knowing where you want the bracket to go. No way to set that up prior to the move. So I bought the wrought-iron hangars in the picture on Amazon. They aren’t tall enough to handle the existing pots, which were suspended by two-foot-long wires. So I bought the nice hanging pots shown, also on Amazon (although I did shop three local nurseries first). Now it was time to transplant them.

The one in the kitchen window was growing in a round pot smaller than a tennis ball. I knew that inside that pot would be a solid sphere of roots and I would have to break the pot to get it out. I did, and it was. I cut it back quite a bit first, then broke the pot and moved it, pulling and tucking the branches to pass through the strings. And soaked it good.

The one from the dining room window was easier to get at, sitting in a 5-inch plastic dish. Again a solid root ball, actually a disk, which just fit the mouth of the new pot. This one I didn’t cut back, but that meant I had to do a lot of violence to the limbs to get them between the strings of the pot. Yeah, I could have untied the strings and re-tied them. But I didn’t. Anyway there they are, and if they don’t just wither up and die from the abuse, they’ll do nicely on the deck of my apartment.

About now I called Chuck to get a status on the sale. He had talked to the agent, who hadn’t heard anything from her client, but thought they would want to bring a building inspector and perhaps an architect, sometime this week. The appraiser is scheduled to visit on Wednesday. I don’t need an appraisal for the sale, but I do need it to document the value “as of” December, so Katie the Tax can properly calculate the value of Marian’s estate. If by chance the appraiser comes in with a number higher than we’ve settled on with the buyer, I could possibly claim a tax loss on the sale. (Hmmm — if by chance he came in lower than the sale price, I would by the same logic have to pay for a capital gain!) I don’t care about either; I will only emphasize to the appraiser that I want a number that will be bulletproof under the gaze of an IRS agent.

To-do items continued to fall: I mopped the kitchen floor, which needed it; I swept the wood floors in the bedroom and living room; I got out a copy of my Health Care Directive (aka “living will”) and my Power of Attorney and set them aside to drop off at CH next time I’m there, which I should have done two weeks ago.

Then I did something I only conceived of in the middle of the night last night. I was imagining showing the new owner around, giving her the benefit of years of experience with the house. I’d like to do that IRL, although it probably won’t happen. But, in the depths of the night, I imagined she would want to see the attic, and I remembered that in the attic there were several rat traps I had placed the last time we had unwanted roof-rat tenants. And very possibly there would be a mummified dead rat in one of them. Not cool! So I got out the ladder and climbed up into the attic and cleaned out the rat traps. There was one mummified rat, but it was out on the floor, not in a trap. Odd. Then I climbed under the house, just far enough into the crawl space to grab the three rat traps that I had put under there two years back (no dead rats). All into the trash. Now, if Lawyer Lady wants to see the attic or crawl space, she won’t be shocked.

(I am assuming that a thirty-something partner in a law firm is not a handy-person, rather one whose only acquaintance with screwdrivers involves orange juice and vodka, and who’ll have only a remote intellectual interest in things like attics, drains, or irrigation. That might be totally unfair! It would be pleasant surprise to find she really was into home maintenance topics.)

Next item on the list was to order my Channing House TV service and DVR from Comcast. I called the number Craig game me and got an odd message, “the service you request is not available at this time, try again later.” (I did try later and got to a helpful customer service rep who set me up. I’m getting the fancy DVR that Craig recommended, and an upgraded channel selection, for a total of $25/month. Which is about $115 less than my current DirecTV subscription runs.)

And then I wrote all the above, and it is just 11:05. Let’s hear it for early starts! Next scheduled event is the 12-2pm window when my last two bits of furniture from West Elm are due. I think I’ll have a nap.

The furniture delivery arrived about 1pm, two very courteous guys unboxed and brought in my new settee and my media console. I am very pleased with the settee; it looks like quality, and the color and style of the woodwork exactly matches that of my 50 year old coffee table (it’s actual mid-century modern).

The media console looks good and its color and style coordinates well with the other items. There’s a bit of a problem in that my sound bar doesn’t fit very comfortably in it. From the web catalog page I had hoped it would. Actually, it might fit; if rotated up on its front edge it could tuck into the back, but I’d need to hold it in place with duct tape or something. Or it would fit nicely if I took a jig saw and cut out two, 4×6 rectangles from some uprights, heh. To be determined. Also the subwoofer box doesn’t go into it. I may look for a smaller subwoofer.

Once the delivery guys left, I went out into the heat (over 90 in the shade) and went down to FOPAL. On this day-after-sale weekend it is time to look at every book in the section. Ones that have been around for 3 months go the bargain room. Ones with prices over $4 get repriced lower. Then I culled the 5 boxes from the sorting room. These had a very high proportion of books over 10 (many over 20) years old. If they don’t cover some relatively timeless subject, they go. I ended up pricing and shelving only about 20 books from the five boxes.

I grabbed some bottles of soda from the grocery next door, and on impulse some Indian food from the deli counter, and headed home to relax in the glow of a day of accomplishments. Yay, me.

Day 186, Yosemite, realty

Thursday, 6/6/2019

Buzzed over to Yosemite for a day of museum work. Sherman and I did photography, and ran out of work to do about 2:45. While chatting in the lobby I got a text from Chuck. Two texts, actually, and an email. He was excited because he was actually on the way to a weekend trip to the Russian River, and nearly out of cellphone service, when he received the signed counter-offer from the agent for Lawyer Lady. She has accepted our price, and wants only extra time to complete inspections.

All I needed to do is print the document, sign it, scan it, and send the scan to Chuck’s office for it to be forwarded to the other agent. I headed home to do that, and had the PDF on the way before 4:30. The L.L. has nine days to find some problem and cancel the deal, but otherwise, the house is sold.

For the last several days, well, weeks really, I’ve been in short-timer mode. Bought toilet paper Tuesday and actually thought, last time I’ll every buy T.P. again. Tonight it was, I’ll only haul these garbage cans to the curb one more time ever. And so on.

Day 183, men’s group, FOPAL, tech, realty

Monday, 6/3/2019

The CH Men’s Group met at 10 and I was to introduce myself and “talk about anything you like”. So I gave a capsule autobiography with some pictures culled from my collection. Maybe I’ll write that into this blog at some point.

In order to get my usual exercise, I walked from Tasso street to Channing House and back again, net 10,900 steps for the day. Then I went to FOPAL to do the Computer section work. There were eight boxes of books waiting. I ended up keeping about 30 books, sending seven boxes to the bargain room. I ruthlessly discarded into the garbage can somebody’s donation of a bag of 50 or so, 3.5-inch floppies. Nobody cares and they aren’t recyclable. I also put in the recycling a complete FrameMaker product box, containing a set of manuals for that software. Nostalgia: there was a period around 1992-3 when I used FrameMaker 40 hours a week, writing manuals at Informix. It hasn’t been supported, or used, this century, and wouldn’t run on any existing hardware.

Pricing, as usual, turned up some “high value” (average online price greater than $25) books, including one boring looking little textbook whose prices ranged from $70 to over $200. Those went into the “high value” cart for those volunteers to sell.

From FOPAL I drove back to CH to attend a tech group meeting at 3pm. This was to introduce ClearPass, a system of access control for the CH internet provision, so that each apartment could have, in effect, its own little wi-fi network carved out of the big building network. In this way, your laptops, phone, desktop and wireless-connected printer can all see each other — you can print on your printer from anywhere, and your Macs can use Apple file sharing between them — but other users in the building can’t see them. It seems pretty slick, making a couple of hundred apparently unique wi-fi clusters out of one big system. They claim they use this solution for major universities so each student in a dorm has a unique “micro-net” for their devices. I took a bunch of notes on the phone.

Drove home via Safeway to pick up a few groceries. About six, Chuck called. He’d talked at length to the other agent. As was said before, the Lawyer Lady loves the house but is currently tasked with a huge responsibility for a “billion dollar contract” (probably an exaggeration) within her law firm and hasn’t had time to make any decisions. Her visit to the house on Friday was a success, she and her decorator friend love it even more.

I told Chuck I could sympathize with her having this huge crisis, and don’t mind her thinking about it longer; but on the other hand, I want to sell. We agreed he would re-run the ad in the Daily Post that he had suspended last week in respect of their offer. And we talked about how soon after I move out (in 12 days!) we can list the house. Sometime in July.

Day 182, mostly baseball

Sunday, 6/2/2019

This is the day the Lawyer Lady is supposed to respond to our counter-offer. At some time I expect a text from Chuck saying whether we have sold the house or not.

Off to breakfast at the usual place. Punched the last hole in the discount cappuccino card. Not quite perfect timing, I expect to come there one more time, and will have to pay full price for a cappuccino. Caught the cinnamon rolls just as they came out of the oven. Warm cinnamon roll, num.

Stanford baseball has lost one game in its regional, so has to play the other loser today at noon. If they win, they will be allowed to play Fresno State at 6pm, and if they win that they will be allowed to play Fresno State again on Monday to see which team advances to the final four in Oklahoma. Since I paid for a regional pass I had better go.

Between breakfast and noon, I assembled some pictures to accompany my self-introduction to the Men’s Group at Channing House, on Monday. Then off to the baseball game. Lovely weather for it. I spotted several Stanford WBB players in the stands. Stanford got off to a good start, and in the seventh inning they batted around, running the score to 11-1. I decided that was a “W” and left at that point, about 2pm.

At 6pm I was back to Sunken Diamond for the second game. I had my cell phone charged up and with ESPN open in the web browser I could follow the Warriors-Toronto NBA game between pitches. The baseball turned into a marathon. At 8:40pm they had only finished the fifth inning. The Warriors game was over (Warriors won) and Stanford was ahead 6-4, and it was dark and chilly. I decided I had had enough, and went home to listen to the rest of the game on the radio. It didn’t wrap up for another 90 minutes, but did end with a Stanford win.

Around 9:30 Chuck texted that the other agent had not gotten back to him. Expect something tomorrow morning. Are they playing games? Nominally they had only to Sunday to respond, then the counter would be automatically be dropped and the deal is off. Well, what do I know.

And so to bed.

Day 180, dining table exit, real estate

Friday, 5/31/2019

I went for the usual run in the morning. I don’t recollect now (24 hours later) what I did to pass the time until the scheduled feature of the day, the arrival of the people who’ve bought my dining table and chairs (day 164). They showed a bit ahead of time and we loaded the table, the two leaves, and the six chairs into their rather large SUV. It all fit well, and off they went.

I felt a bit emotional about seeing this furniture go, but not as much as I feared I might. It was one of the first things Marian and I bought together, but I cannot now remember the actual buying of it. I’m sure it came, like most of our furniture, from Danish Concepts or some similar Scandinavian-flavor place. The round table occupied the center of our octagonal dining room for about 40 years. At least 15 years ago the table top had accumulated some scratches, and we sent it out to be refinished.

The leaves got little use. For maybe 20 years, through the 90s, we hosted a party of five every other month when we would meet with the Kellehers and our mutual friend Randy. To set for five required putting in one of the leaves. I have a couple of pictures of times we hosted Christmas or Thanksgiving dinner for more people, and put in both leaves to seat eight or nine, but those were rare events, a dozen times at most.

After Randy died we continued to alternate months between our house and the Kelleher’s but with only four diners, no leaf was needed. For the last few years, since the Kellehers moved into a retirement home, we didn’t do any hosting, and only used the table as a convenient place to set things. We ate our own meals in the living room, watching TV.

Once the table was gone, I proceeded with the plan I’d had in mind for a week, since Deb texted to say the table was sold and would go on this day. Namely, I moved all the boxes of furniture I’ve bought for the new apartment, into the dining room, and stacked the other things I’ve already packed for my move on them. It makes one compact cubical heap about 4 foot on a side. That cleared out the spare room, and there I have collected all the things that are also going with me but which need professional packing by the movers, art work and such.

During this Chuck texted to say that Lawyer Lady’s agent had been in touch. Her client has apparently been working 20 hours a day on a major project at her law firm and hasn’t had time to ponder our counter-offer; could they have through Sunday? Sure, no problem. And also, she would like to visit the house one more time with her friend the decorator. Could they do that today at 4? Yeah no prob.

So I tidied up a bit, and left the house at 3:30. I sat for a while in the car near Peers Park, then drove over to CH and sat reading in the lobby until the dining room opened at 5:30. After supper I came on home.

In the evening Jean emailed to ask if I would be willing to drive her to the wedding of Robert Lacrampe. Robert is probably late 20s, early 30s? He is the youngest child of Pierre Lacrampe, Marian’s and Jean’s cousin. I last really interacted with him when he was a teenager. I remember him as a cheerful and intelligent kid who liked to pronounce his name the French way, hhhrrro-BEAR.

Anyway he is getting married on July 20 in Calistoga. Ceremony at 5, then “cocktails (formal)”, then dinner. Google maps says 2:30 to 3:00 hours drive time on a Saturday. That means a 1pm departure for me, pick up Jean, drive to Calistoga, and even if we skip the dinner and leave after an hour of schmoozing, probably a twelve hour round trip, 5-6 hours of driving. Plus, I no longer have a suit; and if I have a necktie I probably don’t have a good shirt to wear it on. Nearest I can get to “formal” is a brown sport coat with gray slacks and a black turtleneck.

Well, I spelled this out to Jean in an email, not saying “no”, just saying here’s the deal. We’ll see.

Day 179, Yosemite

Thursday, 5/30/2019

At 10:30 last night Chuck texted that he had confirmation our counter-offer had been received, but no response to it. He didn’t text anything today, so presumably the buyer is thinking and running their own numbers. I’m determined not to go any lower. My counter was a significant drop from the original asking price, and adjusted to get what I want out of the deal, and it’s my bottom line. If they turn it down, we’ll be on the route to multiple-listing the property, probably in early July.

I drove to Yosemite where I spent the day photographing objects. Aurora, the curator who rides herd on this group of volunteers, has embarked on a monumental task, examining every box on the shelves at Yosemite. There must be several hundred boxes. Each is a “banker’s box” made of archival (acid-free) cardboard. In each are cardboard trays, and in the trays are artifacts nestled in archival plastic foam. Several years ago I helped to pack some of these boxes when the collection was moving from the museum building to the Yosemite warehouse.

Each box is opened, the artifacts lifted out and their numbers looked up in the database. Various errors can turn up, for example objects having the wrong location code, or battery-powered objects with batteries still in place. For some boxes, or some trays, there are no photographs in the database, and these are being set aside for photography. Today I and another volunteer worked through two boxes, maybe 50 objects. Including a box of slide-rule type artifacts, a Jeppsen flight calculator, another big circular computer used to calculate radio-frequency reflectances, and… a Micky Mouse Math rule that did addition.