I'm waiting at the San Jose airport for my red eye flight to NYC. It's not as cushy in this section of the terminal as it was over at the Southwest gates. On the other hand, I didn't have to wait in line at all at security, so now I've got time to kill. There's a very loud colicky baby nearby. I really hope I'm not sitting near her on the flight. Fortunately, it doesn't look like it will be a very full flight.
I'm going out to Ithaca to look for a place to live. The reality is starting to sink in. Someone from a moving company came by to give me an estimate today.
Sometimes I go through phases where I freak out about it. It's not a major freak out, just me fretting about all the tiny details. Will I get financing for a mortgage, will I find a house I like and if not, will I find something cool to rent, will the road trip with the cats be ok, etc etc????
For those of you who were wondering, I did the smart thing and did not go to T's birthday party. But yes, I did stew and fret. That's one of the problems with being unemployed with too much time on my hands. As predicted, he did not send me the details, and I did not ask, even though we did IM later in the week. I'm going to leave it at that, but will open up the can of whupass if he ever pulls this kind of bullshit again.
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