Not me. Sondra. And not to California, but to Minneapolis, Wisconsin. She finished her nine-month contract, packed her bags, had a farewell beer (ok, multiple, actually) last night, got a taxi and headed to the airport. I expect she's hanging around the terminal about now, waiting to board her plane in half an hour or so.
The flat is eerily empty. Two water bottles, a bottom drawer full of abandoned toiletries, and the dirty sheets in the hamper are all that remain in her room. The mattress bears a puckered indentation of Sondra. I've long-considered commandeering her mattress--white and pillow-topped--to replace my wretched futon contraption, but now it seems like stealing from a warm corpse. Maybe I'll give it a day.
In August I'll be sharing the flat with one of my co-workers while she transitions to her new job in the Mediterranean. In September-ish I'm going to move away from my stodgy neighborhood to a newer, more exciting one. I'll live with the new teacher at PEE. She's young, hip and I hope we'll have a great time living in the student section of the city. More international folks, more tattoos, more music.
Change is good.
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