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Giving the CV19 Dorks a Break

You can't go home again . . . unless you're willing to move about 87 times.

Yes, I'm going to stop flogging the unresponsive. Most of the true believers seem content to sit in their living rooms and watch CNN on a loop.

CNN has been on a loop since 1990.

I'm turning my attention to our newfound quest for a house (Aaarrrggghhh!!!!!) in Connecticut. Reiterating, for the last time, that Lee and I thought we would never buy any real estate again. That intention has disappeared into the fog of cozy of Nutmeg State towns, boroughs, and coombs.

Drove up to Essex yesterday and looked at three homes. Two of them showed enough curb appeal to warrant a request to our real estate agents for an inside look. The third, very close to the beach had the bizarre design of a TWO garages.

Not so strange except that one of them, the original, sat on the western side of the house. The other, part of a well-designed addition, completely opposite on the eastern side. Perhaps it was built by a divorced couple.

We moved onto the next geographic locale, Old Lyme or East Lyme or Lyme or New Lyme, or whatever the heck it is. You'd think someone with a sense of humor would found a borough next door called Lemon.

A further inspection of Old Lyme might have netted us one possibility. Plus, we have an attachment to Old Lyme, that is one of the great coincidences of life.

The last eight years of my career in film production, 2010 to 2018, I had the opportunity to work a lot with a commercial director in the Bay Area named Jef Loeb. Previous to this stretch, I labored on a spot with him when he was on the agency side in the mid-90s.

I avoided working with him because Jef Loeb, though he is nothing like this, can appear intimidating. Smart, professorial facial hair, experienced, educated. He has a demeanor that can be off-putting, unless you invest around 30 minutes with him, because that layer peels back and there's a great person inside who is more than just the job.

During those eight years, I (and my wife, Lee) got to know Jef and his wife, Deborah on a personal level. It was one of life's surprises that come your way when you're open to it, a "Meant to be" friendship. That bond is on a deeper couples level now, because it appears the Loebs are stalking us, or we're stalking them.

The Loebs took an apartment in NYC more or less the same time we did. We live four blocks from them on opposite sides of Columbus Circle.

Our socializing has spanned the entire American continent. We've shared a couple Holidays. They sold their house in Mendocino as we were unloading ours in San Francisco.

And now this. They bought a place in Old Lyme at least a year ago. Our intent, as mentioned, was to never, ever own a house again. Yet, here we are in Groton, maybe 15 miles from them, enjoying the northern Connecticut coast and driving around an endless supply of enclaves searching, once more, for a place to call home.

Home is where you hang your hat, or so we've been told.

Not entirely true. Looks like home is where the Loebs are.

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