  We're moving to a new apartment. It's on the same property as the one we're in; but with one less room, and what looks like wooden shingles on one of the walls. The kitchen and the living room are one longish room, in order to reach the bathroom, the wilds of the bedroom must be traversed. It's 100 dollars cheaper, a royal pain in the ass practically, and there's not much choice in the matter. It's a nice place, though - seems like it is better maintained than the one we're in currently. Might be newer, or some such. I'm not feeling anything much about it. There is a lot of sentimentality attached to where we're at.
We fostered kitties there. Cordy died in the living room. Our first apartment. Got to move out sooner or later, though. Besides, it has come to my attention that i have a morbid attachment to places, people and things. The funk's still funk, with no sign of the good George Clinton anywhere. I hope it's the weather. 
