Tonight we paid the deposit and our first little bit of rent to move in I guess in 30 days, the notice Nicky requires.

We are moving on up, sort of one step below gated community without the gates. They don’t need ’em, the riffraff are easy to spot. Consistently, in the new ‘hood, there’s been the one homeless guy sitting on a crate outside the gourmet grocers and thats about it.

We’re leaving this (per Wikipedia):

The per capita income for the city was $26,697. About 6.0% of families and 8.8% of the population were below the poverty line, including 10.3% of those under age 18 and 7.4% of those age 65 or over.

For this (ditto on Wikipedia):

The median income for a household in the city was $84,609, and the median income for a family was $105,550. Males had a median income of $79,766 versus $51,101 for females. The per capita income for the city was $53,341. About 4.2% of families and 6.9% of the population were below the poverty line, including 8.8% of those under age 18 and 7.3% of those age 65 or over.

Diverse the new ‘hood ain’t. It’s Whiteytown in the center of Whiteyville.

The trade off is the cute as a button, picturesque downtown, where we will be right off the main drag, a mere couple of blocks from cafes, wine and shops and galleries we can ill afford. Progress.

I am so looking forward to walking again. Our current place lacks the kind of ambience for perambulation. Unless ambience includes trash blowing on lawns and strip malls.

M. cuts 10-15 miles each way off his commute. My almost 20 mile commute will drop to about 2 miles. Since that couple of miles can be done on a bike path, I think I’ll be bidding the gym farewell.

Now, I have to ponder. The dead lightbulbs or the dead hooker, which would be more exciting and fun for old Nick. I’m figuring he’s gonna nickel and dime every cent of the security deposit, might as well figure out something fun. Or, maybe I’ll get into one last argument with him and fight for every red cent just to fuck with him.

Probably not a coincidence that he didn’t return the call of the rental guy at the new place, who was looking for a reference. Could it be he doesn’t want to lose the non-ghetto working couple who ignores his bullshit?

Poor old, crazy, anal retentive, Nick, dude. The quiet guy tenant in the corner was gone before we could introduce ourselves. The Israeli next door, who had a screaming match one night with Nicky, said he’s done and has given his month’s notice. The only tenant left paying will be the single mom with the teenage son and the ugliest crew of friends and relations who ever yelled at each other and threw about the fuck word on a summer’s patio.