Category: Denver

The honeymoon with Denver is definitely over. At this point I am more than ready to go back to five months of 115° temps in Phoenix rather than spend one more day driving in snow. Hell, at this point I'd even be willing to move back to earthquake country rather than deal with this crap!

When my folks divorced, my mom moved back to Wisconsin where she was born and raised. She lasted exactly one winter before returning to Arizona. Now I know why. (And Denver winters are mild in comparison!)

Back in the 80s when my tribe relocated en masse to San Francisco, not all of us took to the City or embraced it the way I did. I could not understand how Lee—my best friend in the world—didn't love the place the way I did. Now I do. Some locations are a perfect match for your energy and some aren't. For me, Denver has proven itself to be in the latter category. I cannot wait to get the fuck out of here and away from the stupid-ass weather and the fucking insane drivers.

There is nothing about living here that I will miss. NOTHING.

Unfortunately, leaving Denver right now—as much as I would love to—is simply not an option. It will be three more years and three more fucking winters before we can leave. But rest assured that when that day comes and the truck is loaded and we're heading out of town, not a single fucking tear is going to be shed.

1. Asshole drivers
2. Asshole drivers
3. Asshole drivers
4. Asshole drivers
5. Asshole drivers
6. Asshole drivers
7. Asshole drivers
8. Asshole drivers
9. Asshole drivers
10. A really great jazz radio station (because I had to say something positive after running errands today and having to deal with all of the above)

…but after a little over two years here, it's simply become a case of "it is what it is."

Of course it doesn't help matters that the past nine months have, in general, simply sucked.

I hate this place.

Me: What the fuck are you doing? What. The Fuck. Are you doing.

Me: NICE BLINKER, ASSHOLE!

Me: Why the FUCK are we not even going the speed limit? WHY?

Me: I AM GOING TEN MILES PER HOUR OVER THE SPEED LIMIT. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?

Me: Shit, is that a cop? No.

Me: Shit, THAT is a cop.

…that when Colorado was being settled, cities built, and transportation routes laid out, someone looked at a hundred year history of weather patterns and said, "Let's put everything where it snows the most!"

Seriously.

Let's face it: no one likes getting one of these things in the mail. In fact, I can't think of a single person I know who's been summoned for duty who woke up that morning and said, "Finally! I get to go to Jury Duty!"

I've been summoned only once before in my life, about six years ago while living in Phoenix. It wasn't a bad experience, but I think that's because the Phoenix court system really goes out of its way to make the the process as pleasant as possible. Big screen movies, wi-fi, fully stocked break room, comfy chairs, workstations, plenty of electrical outlets for your devices…

Contrast that with Arapahoe County in Colorado. The place was like waiting at the DMV. Two small screens showing the History Channel, no wireless, no electrical outlets to charge phones, and chairs so uncomfortable it was a relief when they finally started calling out the groups of 50-70 people for screening. They told us we would be divided into four groups; one for a civil trial and the other three for criminal cases—all of which were expected to last 3-5 days.

Great. Just fucking great.

I really wouldn't have minded serving the 3-5 days away from work if it had been the middle of summer, but hearing this, my heart sank because a major—and hopefully for the season final—snow storm was predicted to roll in tonight and last until early Wednesday morning, dropping 12-14 inches in the process. I mean c'mon, guys. It's fucking April!

While I would have no trouble getting to the courthouse without having to drive on my nearly-bald tires, I didn't relish the thought of having to get up at 5 am to do it.

This obviously wasn't going to be a repeat of my experience in Phoenix where I basically waited around a single day to be called into a group, only to have each successive case be dismissed or settled before trial.

I was selected for the third group today, and just as we were about to be called to go upstairs to the court for screening, they announced that our particular case had been extended because the witnesses failed to appear and we were free to go.

Woo! Paid day off! (And if it snows as much as they're predicting, I may get a snow day tomorrow as well!)

This is the temperature when I arrived at work this morning. But that's nothing. It was 0℉ when I woke up. I think we had a high of 13℉ today.

It's supposed to get into the 30s tomorrow. I guess I'll break out the shorts and flip-flops.

I really don't mind it, as long as I don't have to drive in it…

I love it when I actually get to witness Karma in action.

I was out running errands this morning, and—as is par for the course with Denver—people were driving like complete assholes; running stop signs, making right turns from left lanes, tailgating…

There's a section of Colorado Blvd. where the far right lane becomes right-turn only just north of I-25. I was in the middle lane, apparently not going fast enough for the bitch behind me who had been tailgating since we both got off the freeway, when she swerved into the right (turn only) lane, passed on the right, and then moved back in front, cutting me off in the intersection…and promptly rear-ended the car that I had seen was stopped ahead.

I had plenty of time to stop so I was not involved in the collision, but I felt no small amount of schadenfreude when I saw her plow into that truck. Neither of them were hurt (because they both pulled off into a parking lot after it happened), but the front of her car was smashed and fluid was leaking and steam pouring out from under the hood.

Stupid cunt.

…there was a bit of a chill in the air this morning.

But why?

I started hearing loud explosions around 8 pm tonight and went outside to see what was going on. I still have no idea what it was all about…

It was 56℉ when I left for work this morning.

We're moved.

The only casualties as far as I can tell (everything isn't yet totally unpacked) are two light bulbs and the tip of my right middle (mouse wheel!) finger when it received the equivalent of being caught in a car door. (Some IKEA furniture is quite heavy.)

The new place is fabulous. Both Ben and I look around and think, "Equity finally got it right." The difference between this complex and the previous one we lived in is like day and night. There are none of the WTF?!? design quirks that riddled the old place, and it is evident that the architect actually put some thought into the design. Everything about our new place is high end (or in the parlance of Auntie Mame "really top drawer!" In fact, if you didn't know better you'd think the place was a condo.

The kitchen is huge. We actually have unused cabinets and drawers. (I'm sure that won't last, but for now it's kind of neat to know we have space.)

For a change, the bathroom exhaust fans don't sound like jets taking off, and they even have moisture sensors that automatically turn them on and off as needed. I'm impressed. The toilets are dual-flush (half or full tank), and the fit and finish of everything is light years beyond what we had at Colorado Pointe.

All the light bulbs in the apartment are CFLs—that the complex replaces if they burn out. (Probably not that big a deal since I have CFLs that I purchased back in 2005 that are still going strong.)

While we don't have real hardwood floors (they're vinyl), they look like wood, and it's nice not to have nasty old apartment-grade carpet in the main living areas. The cobalt blue rug that Ben bought for the living room a year ago looks really good against them.

We had a stacked washer/dryer at the old place. Now we're back to having regular separates that seem to do everything except fold the clothes when they're done. No more multiple hour-long dry cycles for a single load of clothes!

And did I mention the second bedroom that has a walk-in closet that's as big as the separate storage room we had at the old place? We finally have a proper home office/guest room. (Or will have as soon as we get rid of the piles of boxes stacked there.)

And no more fucking parking garage!

Here we go again.

It's been my experience that I rarely stay more than a year at the first place I move into in a new city, and Denver is proving to be no exception to that. Ben and I were both pretty fed up with this place and when presented with a $1000 a year rent increase we said, "Enough!"

Yes, it's convenient to our preferred shopping haunts, it's located roughly halfway between our respective workplaces, and we've become quite fond of the Starbucks that's a block away, but we just can't justify staying here, especially since we found a two bedroom place that's brand new and is going for what our increased rent would be if we stayed here in this one bedroom unit.

So why am I not champing at the bit to get packed, even though I am excited about the new place? Because I hate the process of moving. Once upon a time I looked upon it as a great adventure, but I'm long past that. The best thing I did when I reached my mid 30s was to start hiring people to load and unload the truck, finally zeroing-out the moving karma owed to friends. I'm rapidly reaching the point where I can justify the expense of having movers come in and do it all.

Right now I'm just keeping in mind that three weeks from now we'll be moved—and moved in—to the new place and this will all be nothing more than an unpleasant memory.