Two weeks before I moved, I left for a performance at a festival in Portland, Oregon, followed by a well-deserved vacation to see my parents, who live in Arizona. The night before it rained heavily, flooding my apartment to lake level this time, but I didn’t really care at that point.I knew I was going to have belongings damaged and that the landlady didn’t really care. I just counted my losses, smiled and sang, as I waited for my brother Benjy in the wee hours of a late August date, across the street in an empty parking lot to pick me up and take me to the airport.
I did have a restful vacation; something I hadn’t had in ages, due to a then harried job situation I was in and my living conditions which were deteriorating more and more with each day I was living in the swamp.
During my time out there, I went into a local post office in Tempe (Arizona) and changed my flow of mail from my then current address in Evanston to my new address. I somehow knew that the powers that be had for once in a long time, recognized my dilemma and were helping me set myself free at long last.
From my parent’s home in Arizona, I planned, schemed and otherwise hob-knobbed with friends and the moving truck rental agency via telephone and email, as to firming up moving plans and how I was to plan on “surprising” my kooky landlady with the news. I knew from the start it wouldn’t be easy, so I figured casualness would be best...
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