The cost of unity
Is currently set at $14,000 - $19,000 depending on whether you count how much I make today, or how much I would make at BPR in three months (theoretically).
And it's an easy choice until I look at my student loans.
I guess I will be looking for a new place to live in two months. Not only because I will no longer be able to afford this place, but also because even if I could I have effectively alienated the owner by telling my property managers that I will not be paying retro-utilities on this place when (1) there is no partitioning of electricity/gas between the two apartments, (2) there is no written agreement to do so, (3) she has been sketchy by trying to screw first me and then my neighbors, and (4) why would I if I may be kicked out in two months anyway.
So...here I go again. I think this will make somewhere in the ballpark of my 25th move. And I'm 32 years old. Yeah, you do the math. By the time I was 16, I had moved 14 times. The key is goodwill furniture. You don't get so attached to it.
Maybe now I'll get rid of her damn boxes. Although she is good inspiration for the fact that the cost of uniting is worth it...hell got the idea from her:
Two Tramps in Mud Time
By Robert Frost
Out of the mud two strangers came
And caught me splitting wood in the yard,
And one of them put me off my aim
By hailing cheerily "Hit them hard!"
I knew pretty well why he dropped behind
And let the other go on a way.
I knew pretty well what he had in mind:
He wanted to take my job for pay.
Good blocks of beech it was I split,
As large around as the chopping block;
And every piece I squarely hit
Fell splinterless as a cloven rock.
The blows that a life of self-control
Spares to strike for the common good
That day, giving a loose to my soul,
I spent on the unimportant wood.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You´re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you´re two months back in the middle of March.
A bluebird comes tenderly up to alight
And fronts the wind to unruffle a plume
His song so pitched as not to excite
A single flower as yet to bloom.
It is snowing a flake: and he half knew
Winter was only playing possum.
Except in color he isn´t blue,
But he wouldn´t advise a thing to blossom.
The water for which we may have to look
In summertime with a witching wand,
In every wheel rut´s now a brook,
In every print of a hoof a pond.
Be glad of water, but don´t forget
The lurking frost in the earth beneath
That will steal forth after the sun is set
And show on the water its crystal teeth.
The time when most I loved my task
These two must make me love it more
By coming with what they came to ask.
You´d think I never had felt before
The weight of an axhead poised aloft,
The grip on earth of outspread feet.
The life of muscles rocking soft
And smooth and moist in vernal heat.
Out of the woods two hulking tramps
(From sleeping God knows where last night,
But not long since in the lumber camps.)
They thought all chopping was theirs of right.
Men of the woods and lumberjacks,
They judged me by their appropriate tool.
Except as a fellow handled an ax,
They had no way of knowing a fool.
Nothing on either side was said.
They knew they had but to stay their stay
And all their logic would fill my head:
As that I had no right to play
With what was another man´s work for gain.
My right might be love but theirs was need.
And where the two exist in twain
Theirs was the better right -- agreed.
But yield who will to their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For heaven and the future´s sakes.
And it's an easy choice until I look at my student loans.
I guess I will be looking for a new place to live in two months. Not only because I will no longer be able to afford this place, but also because even if I could I have effectively alienated the owner by telling my property managers that I will not be paying retro-utilities on this place when (1) there is no partitioning of electricity/gas between the two apartments, (2) there is no written agreement to do so, (3) she has been sketchy by trying to screw first me and then my neighbors, and (4) why would I if I may be kicked out in two months anyway.
So...here I go again. I think this will make somewhere in the ballpark of my 25th move. And I'm 32 years old. Yeah, you do the math. By the time I was 16, I had moved 14 times. The key is goodwill furniture. You don't get so attached to it.
Maybe now I'll get rid of her damn boxes. Although she is good inspiration for the fact that the cost of uniting is worth it...hell got the idea from her:
Two Tramps in Mud Time
By Robert Frost
Out of the mud two strangers came
And caught me splitting wood in the yard,
And one of them put me off my aim
By hailing cheerily "Hit them hard!"
I knew pretty well why he dropped behind
And let the other go on a way.
I knew pretty well what he had in mind:
He wanted to take my job for pay.
Good blocks of beech it was I split,
As large around as the chopping block;
And every piece I squarely hit
Fell splinterless as a cloven rock.
The blows that a life of self-control
Spares to strike for the common good
That day, giving a loose to my soul,
I spent on the unimportant wood.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You´re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you´re two months back in the middle of March.
A bluebird comes tenderly up to alight
And fronts the wind to unruffle a plume
His song so pitched as not to excite
A single flower as yet to bloom.
It is snowing a flake: and he half knew
Winter was only playing possum.
Except in color he isn´t blue,
But he wouldn´t advise a thing to blossom.
The water for which we may have to look
In summertime with a witching wand,
In every wheel rut´s now a brook,
In every print of a hoof a pond.
Be glad of water, but don´t forget
The lurking frost in the earth beneath
That will steal forth after the sun is set
And show on the water its crystal teeth.
The time when most I loved my task
These two must make me love it more
By coming with what they came to ask.
You´d think I never had felt before
The weight of an axhead poised aloft,
The grip on earth of outspread feet.
The life of muscles rocking soft
And smooth and moist in vernal heat.
Out of the woods two hulking tramps
(From sleeping God knows where last night,
But not long since in the lumber camps.)
They thought all chopping was theirs of right.
Men of the woods and lumberjacks,
They judged me by their appropriate tool.
Except as a fellow handled an ax,
They had no way of knowing a fool.
Nothing on either side was said.
They knew they had but to stay their stay
And all their logic would fill my head:
As that I had no right to play
With what was another man´s work for gain.
My right might be love but theirs was need.
And where the two exist in twain
Theirs was the better right -- agreed.
But yield who will to their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For heaven and the future´s sakes.