progress report

Sixteen boxes packed. All my books and movies. (Yipes, there are a lot of them.)

I need to throw on some clothes and head out to the stores for more pathetic box begging, and to buy more packing tape, as I've just run out. Grr. The little things that hinder progress.

But I'm armed with plenty of newspaper, and will tackle the knick-knacks and pantry supplies when I return. Will also begin on the pictures decorating my walls, and take down the crates (marvelous thing about those is that they're their own boxes, and I can use them for packing, whoo-hoo.)

And just in case I needed confirmation that I'm doing the right thing...

Last night when I came home late from work there was a creepy stranger pacing the sidewalk in front of the porch, and as soon as I parked, still on the phone with my sis, he started pacing in front of my car. Of course I had all the doors locked already, and all my instincts were shouting do not get out of the car. He didn't go away, so I turned the car back on and left. (I did drive past your house, MP, but you weren't home.) Drove to Mishawaka and back, and by the time I returned, he was gone...

But the door at the bottom of the stairs was wide open, and the stairwell lights were off.

Now to a cop's daughter, that spells Bad Things. That smacks of break-in. So I went next door and asked the neighbor to walk up the stairs with me to make sure the apartment was all right. It was fine, I did a quick walk-through, all was secure, so I thanked her and she left. There was an argument going on in the apartment across the hall, which isn't unusual...but the hair stood up on the back of my neck when I realized that the voices weren't my neighbors'. They were snapping things like, "Hand me that," and "Give me that," and, "That goes right there."

I called the police. Then I called my landlord. They all arrived at the same time, and it turns out the people in Lu's apartment were friends of hers that were hanging out until she got back, since she'd lost her keys. Santos kicked them out anyway and told them they'd be arrested for trespassing if they returned.

When Lu got back I explained what had happened, and that I thought someone was robbing her place, and she was amused and touched and thanked me for being a good neighbor, so at least the scary people that live around here won't be pissed off at me for the remaining week I'm here.

But God. I told Santos, "I can't live like this anymore." He said it might be better if I got a roommate. (The nerve.) I said, "I'm not getting a roommate. I don't live well with people." He suggested I invest in a taser. I said, "I'll do better than that." He looked freaked out. Then he started talking about how he'll have to get a tenant to replace me who's just like me and will tell him what's going on around the house, and I had to choke back some choice words, because I'm still not out of my lease yet. GRRRRRRR.

Good confirmation, though. Not like I was having second thoughts or anything. I've been feeling nothing but relief at the idea of not living here anymore. Even maneuvering and arranging all my stuff in the tiny little house I'll be inhabiting sounds like fun compared to all this crap.

Another great thing about my new location is that I know all the cops in the town I work in, and get along with them quite well, and I'm on their beat. Nice little perk.

And oh, to have Michigan plates on my car. It will be SO NICE not to have Indiana ones. Why, you ask? Indiana drivers are idiots. Whenever I'm driving out of state and cruising like a bat out of hell I feel like I have an obligation to prove to the world that I'm not like most "Hoosiers" that would rather be seated in a buggy, and I feel like my plates come as a surprise when I pass people on the highway.

Michigan drivers, though -- they're insane. They're fast. They're fantastic. And they're EVERYWHERE. You can't drive in any other state without seeing someone from Michigan (or a pack of cars from Michigan) blasting their way along the highway like they had somewhere to be yesterday and time's a-wasting and they've never heard of a plane. And you wonder, What are you doing out here? It's not even a holiday weekend. And then you think, Damn. They're fast.

So it will be a relief to shed the Indiana veneer, the Hoosier reputation. I fell in love with Michigan a long while back, and it will be so lovely to live in my adopted home state. I'm Pennsylvania born and bred, down to the blood and bone, and that will never go away, but I love Michigan and it will be nice to call myself a Michigander.

And get rid of the stupid Indiana plates on my car.