Coming to you live from a cafe in Ramat HaSharon

So I've actually moved. It's a really long story and I wont get into it, but yesterday I moved into an apartment under Karen's house in Ramat HaSharon, a really happenin' suburb outside of Tel-Aviv. Right now I'm sitting in a cafe using their WiFi. I didn't have to pay to use the internet, but I felt like such a mooch just slapping my laptop down and going to town without so much as purchasing a bite-sized muffin. So I picked the smallest juice I saw and didn't look at the price. A dixie cup full of juice just cost me 16 shekels. That's nearly 5 bucks. Guess, I wont be eating dinner tonight...

So as I sip my very pricey juice, I'll fill you in on what's going on in my very weird life. Let me begin with the apartment. One of the windows doesn't shut all the way and certainly doesn't lock. This is a little unnerving since I will be spending several nights alone in the apartment, though today I will be joined by my Swiss friend, Geraldine Canonica. In fact, I need to get to the airport soon. Actually, come to think of it, I need to figure out first how to get to the airport via the most confusing bus system on the planet. Oi.

So, in any case, I point out the busted window to Ofer, Karen's husband, when he comes down to make sure everything is okay in the apartment. He said, "Oh yeah, that is broken," and then (true to his Israeliness) shut the blinds, then with a huge smile on his face said, "See. All better."

I wasn't convinced that shutting the blinds would keep out thieves, mass-murders, or rapists, but I wasn't about to trample on his hospitality by pointing out his faulty logic.  So if I don't get back to you in one piece, you'll know why.

But other than that, and the mold currently waging war on the bathroom (and winning), the place is pretty great--it has cable. Ofer came and set it up for me.