migration

Three years ago, after a while of skulking around the edges, I decided to move to the City. Serendipity in the form of Inkbot and her two-bedroom flat arrived, and so Zen and I flew into our new nest that spring.

All good things must come to an end, it is said and it is true. Inkbot’s own migratory pattern pulls her southerly to pursue her writing career in the land of Lost Angels. And so our nest in the big Oak will be empty come summertime.

As you can imagine, this new development is bittersweet for all involved; anyone knowing Inkbot for more than a tea-time wishes her more happiness than can be found or carried in cups and saucers. But not to be able to reach across the table and pat the fond hand is a loss no matter how generous you are.

While she makes her new home miles down the coast, Zen and I will be rearranging our twigs and sticks into a new nest. If you live nearby and would like to help, no heavy lifting is needed: just keep an eye out for studios and one-bedrooms in the City, and send me any information you find. For example, cameraphone photos of “for rent” signs are the model of 21st-century efficiency.

So far as location, I am partial to the TenderNob, a neighborhood optimistically referred to by rental agents as “Lower Nob Hill”, which is much like calling Velveeta “economy brie”. My requirements are, in order: one rotund and well-mannered cat allowed, an actual kitchen, and non-carpeted floors. Cheers!