This morning, I was feeling seriously bereft. Being alive without Carlton wasn’t working for me. I don’t think I was depressed. Just realistic. Carlton was my whole life. What does 2 or 5 or 20 more years mean? Not a hell of a lot.
Well, feeling like that I had to kick my ass into gear. I was one my south balcony looking at my new building in the distance. According to Google – it was just a 3 mile walk away.
The red arrow is the building I am moving into. The green arrow is the new building. It has better windows. It has balconies. The old building is 12 stories. The new one is 14. But, the apartments on the 13th and 14th floors are much larger than I want. Not that any are available. A studio overlooking a stripmall on the 7th floor is available. One takes what is available.
So Google and I headed out on foot. I decided to just let Google tell me how to get there. Google did good. Got me there mostly through charming old residential areas. Without Google – I would have gone along the bus route. Not charming. This is the first time that I completely trusted Google to direct my walking. It did a really fine job.
So, I got down to the asylum at about 10AM. (It is downhill from my apartment.) I had coffee with a group of residents who were waiting on church to start. They are Episcopalians. A pretty laid back religion. No one was in the least concerned that I didn’t go to services.
Not going to church, I went walkabout all around the asylum. Checked out the large art studio. I am not artistic. And, with aborted turtle purse project – I am not a craft person either. It is important to know what you are not. But, the art studio appears to be well equipped. It has lots of good light.
I checked out the library. Large print books. A substation of the Fairfax Public Library. Lots of DVDs. And comfy chairs. I’ll still get my books on the Kindle. And stream my movies. But, I might use a comfy chair.
The business center has a perfectly fine shredder. So, I don’t have to even consider taking my shredder. They also have a computer center. Equipped with Dells running WIndows 7. Don’t imagine I’ll be needing them.
There is a pool. It was closed. It is always closed on Sunday. In the gym – there will be NO WAITING for the cardio equipment. They also have a little dance studio with windows, mirrors and a barre. I can see me hauling my yoga mat down to the studio. I found a pool table. And a little card room. Also a “media room”. And, I found out where furniture goes to die. A hallway with the dreaded “brown furniture”, scuffy chairs, an unloved piano. What I did not see is the furniture from “my” apartment.
Speaking of my apartment. I went up and looked at “my” door. Checked out the laundry room. 2 perfectly fine washers. 2 perfectly fine dryers. And an ironing board. No iron. There is a mirror in the elevator hall. So, I can use it to check my appearance. No mirrors in my unit. Also checked out the trash/recycle room. Nothing remarkable there.
And that was The OK.
By then, I am getting hungry and decide to go catch a bus home. I stop to visit a lady who is enjoying the sun in the garden. This little garden is The Good.
After talk story for a while… I excuse myself and start off to the bus stop. But, wait. It is lunch time at the asylum. Well, I’ll just go have lunch in The Formal Dining Room. Where one is expected to dress appropriately. No jeans, shorts or T-shirts.
I was directed to what seems to be the lone diner section. These would be the folks who arrived with book in hand. The lady at the table next to me was wearing a T-Shirt – advertising a famous DC hardware store – under her blazer. And she was reading the NY Times Book Review section. That is promising. Not only her literary tastes. But, her workaround of the “rules”.
I was not so pleased with the food. I would like to quote from the sales spiel about promises of “gourmet” dining. Or fine dining. But, they really don’t tout the quality of the food. It is totally institutional. About like the food at my hospital. The brussel sprouts were served overcooked, underseasoned, and lukewarm. The pears were out of a can. However, the omelet was good. And, I have only myself to blame for ordering pears, knowing that they are not in season. I was just testing the kitchen. The kitchen failed. This is the bad.
However, I am sure that once I move in – I’ll figure how to make the dining options work for me.
Then, I wandered down to the bus stop and came home. Took a nap after my 6+ miles on the fitbit. Got out of my funk.