Square. I'd gone back and forth about taking a beautiful (but pricey) place overlooking the river that would have been great for two. The woman who owns it is going to be in Spain for the summer. Can you imagine that!
I'm sending pics and details of two other places I found and a photo of me taken a couple of months ago. Lynn Bynum is the leasing agent who helped me. Gerry Patrick at the firm knows her. The apartment on Price Street is not far from me. Call quick if you want to take one of these. There's a lot more about me on My Space.com. See you in a few weeks.
Julie
I read the e-mail four times. I'd heard that some of the students at Emory could be snobby. Julie sounded nice enough, although her definition of fun was likely the same as Ms. Patrick's invitation to sample all Savannah had to offer. It was a relief not having to decide whether to room with someone for the summer.
I clicked on Julie's picture and watched it load from the top of the screen to the bottom. She had black hair that fell to her shoulders, a full figure, and wore glasses that made her look very smart. Her Jewish ethnicity was apparent in her face. Dressed casually in a blue sweater and jeans, she was sitting on a bench in front of a huge tree on the Emory campus. There was an open book in her hands that was the same civil procedure casebook we used at Georgia; however, Julie was holding the book upside down and staring at an unknown object in the distance. It was a posed shot, but the purpose of the photo with an upside-down book and faraway look in her eyes wasn't clear. I didn't try to access Julie's myspace.com page. I avoided the personal side of the Web because it was so full of lies and perversion.
I opened the photos of the places mentioned in the e-mail. There were multiple photos of the two apartments and a PDF file giving the specifications of each. The apartment near Julie's place was the second story of a detached garage, and the second location was an end unit of a block of townhomes. I was shocked to discover that one month's rent for the townhome equaled three months at my apartment. The garage apartment was even more expensive. I quickly closed the files. I would need to phone Ms. Patrick and find out about a cheaper place to live.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING at 5:30 a.m. I rolled over and opened my eyes. There were no chickens to tend, but I enjoyed getting up for an early morning run and loved breathing the fresh air of a new day. On even the coldest days of winter, I bundled up for a forty-five minute jog that included a mile-long section alongside the Oconee River. While I ran, I rejoiced. It wasn't a time for intercession, and I didn't try to make it serious. I simply enjoyed the world God created and the physical strength he'd given me.
I covered the last half mile in a sprint that made my heart pound. When I finished, I walked across the parking lot, breathing heavily, with my hands on my hips. I drank two large glasses of water while I cooled off, showered, and dressed for the day. The runner's rush and the glasses of water curbed my morning appetite, and I didn't cook a complicated breakfast. Fruit, yogurt, and a hard-boiled egg were typical. While eating, I prepared for the day's classes. Information learned in the morning stayed with me better than what I studied at night. Most law students didn't crack a casebook in the morning and dragged themselves to class on a skid of strong coffee. I'd never finished a cup of coffee in my life.
After my first class, I went to the placement office and told the job placement director about the Savannah offer. She congratulated me and wrote down the information for her statistics. The placement office had rooms with phones and computers for students to use in job search activities. I closed the door and phoned Ms. Patrick.
"Your acceptance of the job arrived in the mail this morning," she said.
"Really?" It was amazing that an envelope could travel from Powell Station to Savannah in
I'm sending pics and details of two other places I found and a photo of me taken a couple of months ago. Lynn Bynum is the leasing agent who helped me. Gerry Patrick at the firm knows her. The apartment on Price Street is not far from me. Call quick if you want to take one of these. There's a lot more about me on My Space.com. See you in a few weeks.
Julie
I read the e-mail four times. I'd heard that some of the students at Emory could be snobby. Julie sounded nice enough, although her definition of fun was likely the same as Ms. Patrick's invitation to sample all Savannah had to offer. It was a relief not having to decide whether to room with someone for the summer.
I clicked on Julie's picture and watched it load from the top of the screen to the bottom. She had black hair that fell to her shoulders, a full figure, and wore glasses that made her look very smart. Her Jewish ethnicity was apparent in her face. Dressed casually in a blue sweater and jeans, she was sitting on a bench in front of a huge tree on the Emory campus. There was an open book in her hands that was the same civil procedure casebook we used at Georgia; however, Julie was holding the book upside down and staring at an unknown object in the distance. It was a posed shot, but the purpose of the photo with an upside-down book and faraway look in her eyes wasn't clear. I didn't try to access Julie's myspace.com page. I avoided the personal side of the Web because it was so full of lies and perversion.
I opened the photos of the places mentioned in the e-mail. There were multiple photos of the two apartments and a PDF file giving the specifications of each. The apartment near Julie's place was the second story of a detached garage, and the second location was an end unit of a block of townhomes. I was shocked to discover that one month's rent for the townhome equaled three months at my apartment. The garage apartment was even more expensive. I quickly closed the files. I would need to phone Ms. Patrick and find out about a cheaper place to live.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING at 5:30 a.m. I rolled over and opened my eyes. There were no chickens to tend, but I enjoyed getting up for an early morning run and loved breathing the fresh air of a new day. On even the coldest days of winter, I bundled up for a forty-five minute jog that included a mile-long section alongside the Oconee River. While I ran, I rejoiced. It wasn't a time for intercession, and I didn't try to make it serious. I simply enjoyed the world God created and the physical strength he'd given me.
I covered the last half mile in a sprint that made my heart pound. When I finished, I walked across the parking lot, breathing heavily, with my hands on my hips. I drank two large glasses of water while I cooled off, showered, and dressed for the day. The runner's rush and the glasses of water curbed my morning appetite, and I didn't cook a complicated breakfast. Fruit, yogurt, and a hard-boiled egg were typical. While eating, I prepared for the day's classes. Information learned in the morning stayed with me better than what I studied at night. Most law students didn't crack a casebook in the morning and dragged themselves to class on a skid of strong coffee. I'd never finished a cup of coffee in my life.
After my first class, I went to the placement office and told the job placement director about the Savannah offer. She congratulated me and wrote down the information for her statistics. The placement office had rooms with phones and computers for students to use in job search activities. I closed the door and phoned Ms. Patrick.
"Your acceptance of the job arrived in the mail this morning," she said.
"Really?" It was amazing that an envelope could travel from Powell Station to Savannah in
Similar Books
