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Hi all,

Well, I’ve gone and slacked, and haven’t checked in here for a month–sorry about that. At least I’m checking in now from a new address. For the last 5 and 1/2 years I lived on the third floor of an old building with old hardwood floors, that creak if you so much as look at them. When you’re in the habit of getting up at 4 or 5 in the morning, this can create problems–you have to tread lightly as you go about, turn on the computer, make coffee. One neighbor below me complained once about it. Then he moved on, and the next neighbor came storming up the stairs twice, shouting and cussing. (Ironically, she herself had a bad habit of blaring her stereo on Saturdays.)

At least I can know I have something in common with Thomas Wolfe. In _You Can’t Go Home Again_ he recounts the story of a good-humored Japanese immigrant who lived in the apartment below his. And Tom had a habit of working late, pacing the floor. Every time the neighbor ran into Tom, he would grin, waggle a finger and say “You were tramp-ling!”

Fortunately I live on the first floor now, and no one hears me when I get up early. And this building is newer and better kept up, with thick and solid floors, so I never hear my new upstairs neighbor “tramp-ling.”

Now to revise my short story…