Summer is starting out too busy for my lazy bones. The second week we moved all of the crap we’ve packed away in our closets to a new place down in North Park. Most of the moving was done by your’s truly, being that Andy has a real job he has to go to during the day. Nevertheless we got all of our stuff out of the old place and into the new.

We weren’t even in our place two nights before our friends decended upon the new digs. Bekah and our new best friend Beth were down on a half work-half play trip. So we showed them our favorite places to eat, drink, and make friends. Another friend from my past, Galen, came down from two hours North and joined us for a night and a day. That night deserves a paragraph of it’s very own.

We walked to the Livewire and had a merry time making fun of terrible pool players and the regular drunks. On our way home Galen developed quite an appetite. So we detoured to stop by a 24 hour taqueria. Maybe five police cars had sectioned off the road in front the of the taqueria and across the street was a sheet covered corpse. Upon inquiry we found out that the scene was the result of a hit-and-run. The man laying on the other side of the street was running across the street when he was struck and killed by a car, which consequentially failed to stick around to help the man. We tried to enjoy our rolled tacos, but the accident was a little too real.

More on last week later.

Mike and I are slowly unpacking all our stuff here in the new house and it feels good to be in North Park. I’ll miss a lot about the old place on Nobel though: I’ll miss having friends living next door and across the street, I’ll miss the pool and hot tub, and I’ll miss the handicapped dude who would compulsively sweep the sidewalks and arrange flower petals on the walkway lights in sunburst patterns.

I’ve only unpacked about 10% of my crap after more than a week here because the past few days have been completely insane. Bekah and her friend Beth came down on Tuesday, and on Wednesday Galen joined us for a NUHS reunion over burgers in Ocean Beach. On Thursday my little brother drove down from his gf’s home in LA and we gathered up an army of rabble-rousers to take over Livewire. We managed to get lil’ bro good and ripped that night, although he was sneaky enough that I didn’t even know he barfed until he brought it up the next day. Friday night was so ridiculous that I don’t even feel prepared to talk about it, so maybe Mike or I will come back to it in the future. It was fitting that Troy left for SF the next afternoon, but he will be (and already is) sorely missed.

Shit, maybe I should try to flesh this post out later. Bedtime for now, though.

I’ve been changing my habits as of late. Yes, working full time impacted my sleep schedule even back in 2005 when I started working for NDA, but with this new job have come better additions to my daily routine. Perhaps it’s because this position is far more stimulating than the last, or perhaps I’m just reacting to other forces in my life. Either way, something has changed in the last couple months and I now find myself far more motivated to take care of myself and attempt to live the sort of life I value. I floss now, almost daily. Never in my life has this been the case. I’ve taken to running two miles each morning before work, too, and once we move to Northpark the run will be replaced by a 3.4 mile (each way) bike ride to and from downtown. In fact, all this structure has me feeling like I’m back in junior high school—I sometimes even catch myself thinking about my 7th grade PE teacher as I jog in the morning.

Wake up. Run. Shower. Commute. Work. Lunch. Work. Commute. It’s not so bad, and it makes me value my evenings more. During this time I work on personal projects, cook, go to bars or otherwise do my best to keep busy until bedtime. I feel a lot healthier than I did back in school, and as Duolab’s redesign might indicate, I find myself ticking things off my To Do list more frequently. Not too shabby.

Speaking of 7th grade, that was the year I started wearing boxers. I spent much of the previous grade worrying about changing in front of the other boys, and some nebulous quorum decided that boxers were far more acceptable than briefs. I even remember some of the other kids talking about tighty-whiteys causing low sperm counts when we began dressing down for PE, perhaps to justify the new standard in underwear. Seventh-graders talking about fertility? Kids can be so ridiculous.