I spent another hermit-like day inside, watching baseball, reading the Times book review, and fantasizing about my reading lists. I didn’t feel motivated to do anything at all, but I did happily pry myself off my couch to head Uptown for L.‘s birthday party at the cigar bar. The humidity is here already, and the air was thick as I pedaled through the neighborhood where I first lived when I moved to New Orleans. I stopped to take a picture of this warehouse door on the corner of Laurel and Bordeaux. I took my apartment sight unseen from the university’s housing website, and I remember seeing this warehouse on the googleymaps. I felt a little anxious about living by a warehouse, but people told me the place was “on high ground,” the importance of which I was not to understand until much later–when my car flooded twice on my new street. I remember pacing in front of this door, talking on the phone to N. that one night when lots of things changed. And I remember pacing on this corner talking on the phone with C. that one night lots of other things changed. And I remember learning that this warehouse stores Mardi Gras floats. I watched the house on the other side of this place get its paint job and silver handrails, and the new palm trees. The park on the other block was a FEMA trailer park when I moved here, but now it’s a baseball diamond and a playground and a dog park. Things change, yes they do.