Okay, that's yet another move over and done with. It's a shame we had to goldilocks our way through this apartment community, but this time we have a winnah. This place is great. I don't even (much) mind the fact that “luxury living” still includes ugly plastic baseboard, and that the cable installers ran out of white coaxial before arriving for our appointment so that we have a decorative black border flowing along the ceiling through the living room to the den.

This last move has brought to light a pitfall of frequent migration: Man, is our stuff beat up! Not so bad that the movers offered to buy lunch and a trip to the Salvation Army outlet or anything, but between the moving and narrow apartment doorways and stairways and a wood-chewing cat (why he does this is beyond me, but that cat lubs him some cherry cocktail table nom-nom-nom), our furnishings are starting to look a tad like we stuffed them into a covered wagon for the trip here. Telling ourselves “If you squint it looks shabby-chic” is starting to sound tired, if not a little delusional. I foresee furniture crayons and stain and paint over the next couple of months, and oh well, we wanted to re-boot our décor anyway. Perhaps we'll revisit the southwestern look. We did that years ago when we lived in the Dallas area but went more eclectic once we relocated to Portland. I'm partial to Celtic-slash-Gothic myself, but I don't think gargoyles would fit in with the southwestern theme. I could swap out the gargoyles for chupacabra figurines if I could find some. Surely they exist (figurines, I mean).

I'm feeling the need to broaden my horizons. Work-wise, I mean.

Okay, I'm gonna do some carping here. “Well there's a surprising turn”, some of you mutter to yourselves, and yeah I do it a lot, but this is something that I didn't even like to say aloud, let alone clack it out across the networks. It is simply this:

I like what I do at my job, but I don't like the organization for whom I work and I don't care for the culture within which I work. The chain of command is broken and no one ever knows the same thing at the same time. Morale is non-existent. My co-workers are a sullen and paranoid lot, and management displays a classist attitude toward the warehouse crew and volunteers. Often the work we do for the community is compromised for the sake of appearances; we spend too much valuable time disrupting real work so that we can put on a spit-shine for the media. In short, working where I work is a frustrating and at times enraging experience.

I'm not going to name the place at which I work, although anyone could easily suss it from past entries. This is an indicator of my frustration, actually, that I'm risking being dooced just to vent here about the place. There are those who read this that might say I have a reputation for shooting my mouth off. In truth I'd always rather be a booster than a nay-sayer, and even when I've criticized in the past it was with the hopes that it would be taken constructively, and it most often was at my last real job. Not so here. I've heard the blanket I-know-but-this-is-the-way-they-want-it-and-I-just-do-what-they-tell-me so many times from my immediate supervisor that I might as well have it emblazoned on a t-shirt under the company logo.

The hours I work are great. That's the best feature. Is that sufficient to keep me there? Aargh.

/rant off

Today features a trip to the library and then a drive through the northwest part of town just for fun. The missus had an appointment in that part of town last week, and she was impressed. I might also try to talk her into a stop at a coffee shop on Juan Tabo not far from us. I'd like to try a coffee shop that isn't a Starbucks for a change.

It's raining this morning, but it's that barely-there rain you would see in Portland. Meaning no disrespect, but that's just not suitable here. If it's going to rain, I want thunderous sheets. Portland rain was too polite (well, except for sticking around all damned day, day after damned day). Give me rain that shoulders through and panics the birds. (And note to self: Put fenders back on the bike.)


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