Moving
I moved out of my old apartment.
It was probably the worst in the Catalina complex. It was on the ground floor, in the shadow, on the street, near the garbage bins. Every day I woke up at nine because of the noise of the garbage men. (Descartes used to say that good mathematics is possible only if one is allowed to stay in bed as much as he wants, and who am I to disagree?)
This new apartment is a two-bedroom, instead of four.
Accordingly, I went from 3 physicists room-mates to only one, who is a swiss-italian-american nuclear physicist who likes Rubik cubes:
It’s sooo Caltech! (Did you know that probably the most famous cuber — for having partecipated in The beauty and the Geek, no less — was a Caltech student? And did you know that twenty-six moves suffice?)
“It was on the ground floor, in the shadow, on the street, near the garbage bins” — sounds like my previous one (1020/104) as well, plus I got fire trucks virtually every midnight.