The week has been a blur. Had to pack up my desk, AND my boss' desk. Got offered a new position, only I wan't able to find out what it was until Friday. Can't really tell anyone about it due to ongoing situation. And I don't have anyone to train me about my new position. I don't even know when I'm supposed to show up on Monday (to be safe, I'll shoot for 7:30AM). Why can't things be simple. . . . . . . . . . . Weekend was pretty good, if it weren't so damn sticky all the time out here. Tutored in Manhatten for a change. And it was a good opportunity to reinforce my opinions on semi-luxury and luxury condos. In Fort Lee, a few weeks back, I had to go with my student and get his books from his friend's condo. He (my student) called it a luxury condo, and certainly it billed itself as such, with fancy name and marble floored entrance and two doormen. But to my eye, the place screamed semi-luxury. Or perhaps converted luxury. The cinderblock hallways, the hastily attached wood paneling in the elevator, the dust on the furniture in the lobby, the cheap grout between the marble tiles, etc., all indications of a nice patina of high end on top of a base coat of middle class. Not so with my student's grandad's pad in Manhatten. First off, the clearly rich address, Midtown East. Secondly, the plush lobby, with nicely padded refined furniture (no black leather crap here). The elevator with the giant panels of polished (and clean) brass, surrounded by fine wood paneling (no loose joints here). Every ceiling must have been at least 12 ft. high, and no tacky drop-tile ceiling either. And, of course, besides the requisite hall table with wood framed mirror, the hallways were neatly trimmed with waistcoating (sp?) and a nice muted wallpaper (paint's not good enough for these residents). That is what luxury living is.