It only took four years...

I have finally become the gentry. All of my neighbors are moving out, apparently convinced that the housing market is at its peak, and now is the time to realize dreams of quarter-millionaire-itude.

Like, all the neighbors.

I doubt I've scared them off - except for the duplex, I've got seniority in this end of my block.

I have lived, in my home, here, in south park Seattle, for longer than I've ever lived anywhere. Which is neither a great feat nor a particularly shabby one. Pretty mediocre feat, actually. I've lived other places for 3andahalf years, I've lived here for 4andamonth years.

But I feel like it's time to move, because I've now *and will continue to* live(d) here for longer than I've lived anywhere else.

I'm interested to see how that time-schedule manifests itself. I don't think that I've gotten off track, but I have been really having the wander-jizz in my dreams. I've been having a recurring dream that i am roadtripping in italy with either my mom or scott or dad (they being the three most important people in my life) and I come to a town, which is renown for its exquisite and completely unique cooking style/ I enter the town and it is like driving through stucco hallways and white wrought-iron gates.

I eat, with my companion, and it is always super succulent tentacle-d things, blue grains, churning fruitcocktails - really worth whatever it is i KNOW i gotta go through, and then the exits start closing while my companion and I are discussing the tip, or something equally nonessential. The exits close, sometimes we have the opportunity to escape some other way, but I always end up in the servant-class, thinking, "Why - why didn't I just look for excitement someother way??!!!?"

And that's the moral of the story. I am scared of finding excitement in the routine. After years and years and years (26 or so) of looking for the next novelty - I have to seek the bliss that comes from constancy. and it's harder than I would have imagined.