Apartment Hunters, Hollywood-Assistant-Style.

I have moved every single year that I have lived in the greater Los Angeles area for the past five years.  I count milestones of events that friends remember by which apartment I lived in at the time.

Last August, I moved into a one-bedroom apartment that met my needs; it had: close proximity to work, gated covered parking, central air, a pool, poolside grill, balcony, walk-in closet, fireplace, wood floors, ample street parking, and juxtaposition on the top floor of a building.  My apartment, this apartment, is the first one I've ever lived in that I wanted to stay in for awhile, and not just jet to seek bigger and better things at the end of each 12 month lease.

A few weeks ago, my landlord called me, informing me that he had decided to list his condo for sale.

If it sells before my lease ends, say for example, the end of this month, then I need a new home at the end of August.

I truly loathe moving.  The physical act of moving.  The stress, the packing, the unpacking and organizing and cleaning.

Not even Jerry moved in nine years.  Heck, it took awhile just for the green couch in his apartment to get updated!  Did Elaine move though...?

I could sell my excessive belongings. (Note: in this case, excessive=annoying to move, too bulky to pack conveniently.)

What am I saying?  I don't want to move.  I hate moving.  I don't want to be that chick that moves every year (this is probably already a reality, I conclude as I write).  Five years.   Blech.  What am I, a gypsy?

The Heat Is On
The heat, my God, the heat!  I live on the top floor of my humble abode in NoHo.  It must have been 95 to 100 degrees this week.  It was the first time I turned the air conditioning on all summer.

It is also the first time I realized that the a/c was busted.  Apparently the filter had not been cleaned in some time (I've lived here for 10 1/2 months), and because the coating of dirt and filth on the filter had accumulated so much, the entire central air and heating system had crashed.

So here I am, blogging.  Melting.  Thank God for fans.

Note: When you move to a building that has central air, do NOT immediately toss your fan.  Stuff breaks.

Delusions of Grandeur / Things I Shouldn't Be Dreaming Thinking About

Right now, I would love to hop on a plane to Barcelona.

Butter croissant, still warm from the oven.

Blowing a bunch of dough on one of James Beard's friends.

Fried chicken 'a la Roscoe's.

Lying on the beach all day.  (Because of skin cancer!)

TV Shows Where Somebody Moved

Dawson's Creek: from high school to college.  Not sure if this genuinely counts...

The Hills.  Hate this show.  Like a car accident - can't look away from the wreckage.
That's all that seems to come to mind at the moment. Maybe it's because I'm exhausted. Or maybe it's the heat.
Hmmm...I guess most shows tend to keep the same settings...that makes the show unique, that makes a show what it is.

Los Angeles ia a transient place, in more ways than one.  I was aware, but I guess I never really gave it much thought until now.  Who knew that even apartments, the home that you live in, could become such a transient thing as well?