I moved to a new apartment down the street from the old one this weekend and I’m still waiting on internet service. I get the shakes every now and then from the lack of connectivity. I’m the first person to live in this apartment and there’s no cable jack, and the cable people are not sure they can even provide cable service to the unit, so I might have to go the DSL route, which I don’t want to do because that means I have to get a phone line. So for now, I’m writing to you from my old apartment where my roommate still lives.

My reasons for moving are three-fold: 1) Crazy lady upstairs. Enough said. 2) Living directly on a busy street makes for constant traffic noise in the apartment. 3) I need to live alone if I’m going to study for and pass the Bar next year, so I had to move out now. The apartment is actually a garage apartment that was completely gutted and redone from the inside out. It’s basically a studio – just a big room. It’s cozy and simple. And it’s quiet because it’s behind a house and the driveway has a gate with a big steel covering on it to keep out even the slightest road noise from people driving down the street.

School starts Monday and I’m getting really excited.

I hope you didn’t believe that. This last year is going to be a drag. Everyone tells me, “But dude, isn’t the last year a joke?” Yes, it’s a joke if you make it a joke and take joke classes. But if you’re me, and you want to make sure you pass the Bar, you don’t take joke classes. You take Bar classes. Classes like Marital Property, Pretrial Procedure, Criminal Procedure, and Secured Transactions. Some of these are this semester, some will come next semester, but they all have one thing in common: they’re going to be a pain in the ass. They might be interesting, but definitely not for four months, and definitely not during my last year.

Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, it really is good to be back. I’m happy to see my friends again and have many a happy hour on Friday afternoon. But there’s one thing I can’t get used to, even after 26 years. This damn Houston humidity. Can we ever get a break? It’s raining even when it’s not raining.