Oh, Yeah, I Was Going to Law School...

And then there were the halcyon days (and nights, and weekends) of pilot season... and all thought of law school was driven from my mind.

So anyway, it's gonna be Boalt Hall for me. (Should I be trying for more anonymity? I guess not. I mean, how many former sound editors in their forties with two kids do I think are going to be attending a law school in the Bay Area?) It was going to be Boalt anyway - once I got in - for a number of reasons. My only regret - besides the enormous debt I'll be incurring - is that neither Harvard, Yale, nor Stanford admitted me. Cause I did so want to turn them down...

We still haven't found housing, which is a source of mild worry, which no doubt will soon be upgraded to a tropical worry and then to hurricane-level worry. Berkeley's married student housing is undergoing major construction: a few years ago we had a nightmarish summer living in the midst of construction, and we want no part of it. Unfortunately, the alternative may involve finding our own place to live, which we would really, really rather not have to undertake at this point. Once we're there, maybe.

And packing is fun, too. We went to Costco and got a bunch of those heavy-duty plastic bags, the ones with a nozzle so you can attach your vacuum cleaner to the bag and zoop - reduce your blankets, sweaters, quilts, socks, whatnot... to a hard, wrinkled hunk of plastic. (Why do we have so many sweaters? We live in Los Angeles, for God's sake. I may have worn a sweater twice in the past fifteen years.)

But today I'm supposed to be working at home. Can you tell?