Moving

I’m moving … again. My six month lease is up at the apartment I’m in and I’m moving to Marina del Rey to a little abode on the water. They say that moving is the third most stressful thing after divorce and death. Divorce. Death. Moving. I think it’s very unfair to put moving in the same category as death and divorce, but that’s just me.

I don’t find moving stressful. I find it a fabulous moment for a ‘do over.’ Redecorate. Purge yourself from clothes you surely should never have purchased and never worn. Get that refrigerator off to a new – and more healthful – start. Make sure you get all your mail in order and finish moving everything online so you are no longer a paper waster. Yep, moving is a good thing.

My new place... nice?

My new apartment is right on the water. It overlooks a busy marina as opposed to the apartment I’m in now that overlooks a bar that UCLA students don’t make come alive until after midnight each and every evening. (Does anything believe in studying anymore?) When I went to look at it there was a large catamaran outside the window. The name on the stern was Christine, and I knew I should take the apartment.

They have a saltwater pool that is open from 6:00 am every morning which is good for me. I’m an early morning girl and prefer to do things before 8 am when I kick into computer couch potato mode. They have a screening room you can sign up to use for screening whatever film you just finished directing, starring in, or producing. I’m sure I can use that room a lot. I did a four minute marketing video for the company I call home a few weeks ago. Screening it in a screening room could have worked.

They serve coffee every morning by the pool. You just go help yourself like some of the coffee places like Starbucks but there is no check out. That’s nice.

They have a 24/7 exercise room. I never heard of a place for exercise that was open 24/7. Actually that worries me a bit. What kind of neighbors run on the treadmill at 3 am? And, if they do, do we have anything in common? What to say on the elevator when I run into them in their running outfits while I’m heading to 7-11 to get some ice cream for a movie I Tivo’d a week or so earlier? “Hey there. Well done. Best of luck. Night.”

The only other thing that worries me is they have Tsunami signs on the streets surrounding my new place. Those signs make me nervous. I still think they are ridiculous. If a Tsunami comes, there is no Tsunami evacuation route. It’s over baby and that’s the end of that. We Americans are so gullible. Maybe that’s what I can chat with my new neighbors about when I meet them in the elevator going to exercise in the middle of the night.

Anyway, my old apartment is ready and waiting for the movers to come tomorrow morning. I have paid everything I need to pay at the new place, and I’m ready to rock and roll. It’s going to be great. I’m sure I’ve motivated you to move, but if you can’t, you can pretend you are moving and go through each closet, fridge, drawer and purge and rearrange and get the same result.