Got a call from the upstairs neighbor at my place in Cambridge, he’s moving out and marrying his girlfriend.

When he moved in, I was already there, we were both single and, I think, both planning to be stay a long while. Life moves on.

I left shit in the basement, which he has been kind enough to store. The question for today was do I do anything about it? Happily, he’s cool with dumping it on the curb for me.

Kind of liberating to just say “fuck it” and not worry about whatever books or papers or tools or craft supplies that I once stored for the ages. I kept thinking about a bit from a comedian lady I know and her mom’s collection of coffee cans for crafts. I may very well have had a can saved for a future project down there.

Cambridge used to be my home. I knew my neighbors. I was comfortable with the literal man upstairs. My favorite comedy show was down the street. Restaurants, bars, clubs and the convenience store where I was a regular.

Now, I’m gone. The man upstairs is going. And, my favorite comedy show, the boys who run it and their best friend have all left.