Archive for the 'The Great Moving Caper' Category

The Washingtonian

August 15, 2007 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, Gruyere With That Wine, The Great Moving Caper, This side of the Hudson

“Home is not where you live but where they understand you.”  ~Christian Morgenstern

A few weeks ago I had a few episodes of homesickness brought on by an episode of Meet the Press and then a mention of Restaurant Week. Then Amy probably mentioned Noah and the tears started to well. I was homesick. Ridiculously so at that. I started missing little things like the Sephora in Georgetown or my weekend routine of the gym, Trader Joe’s, coffee, a nap and then drinks. A routine that could almost be emulated here if I didn’t live with a woman who didn’t understand my obsession with Sauvignon Blanc and why I need to nap in the middle of the day.

I had a life and friends turned family that took six years to build and cherish and put up with my bullshit. I moved and new the lay of the land and could successfully drive from Maryland to Virginia without becoming suicidal. I was comfortable and when I’m comfortable, I become extremely averse to any sort of change or sudden movements. I wasn’t happy – because in general I am not a happy person – and things were nowhere near perfect. But I always knew that if something were to go terribly wrong I could walk to Kris’ apartment or that my best friends in the world were just a short metro ride away.

It was easy. Possibly too easy.

I moved because I needed the change and I felt it in my gut that it would be the right thing to do. So I had celebratory dinners and parties and cried then cried some more then ended up returning to DC literally five days after I left. A trend that continued for roughly two and half months to the point where I decided that I was sick of DC. So, I got a uhaul and packed up the remnants of my life there and transferred them all to my father’s garage, where they are now covered in a fine layer of dust. Yum.

I’m often uncomfortable with my decisions which could be attributed to age or the fact that I’m stubborn but even when I know deep down inside that it’s the right thing to do, I keep thinking I’m missing out on something. Some big event or party or whatever, I’m missing it because I decided to move 400 miles away. And so I cried.

It’s stupid, I know it is and it passed. But for a week, I felt like I couldn’t do ‘this’ – whatever ‘this’ is – anymore. Like I had to move back and get my life because I would never find that level of comfort anywhere else. I felt lost and like I had made some God awful mistake which can obviously be perpetuated when you move in WITH YOUR MOTHER. Goodbye, privacy!

For years when people asked me where I was from I would say Washington, DC. Because that’s where my life, bills and bed were. But Washington is such a bubble of people with a rather one track mind and a crackberry permanently attached to the hip and a grocery cart full of organic foods. I miss it. I miss it like hell even if it is a short plane ride and even though I’m contractually obligated to go down once a month, I still feel that little pang – like right now as I’m writing this all out – of missing happy hours around town or a quick trip to Whole Paycheck. So right now I’m in some purgatory: Enjoying weekends at the track and road trips to Massachusetts. Getting reacquainted with my parents, brother and high school friends. Shockingly enough, they do have wine here and bars and grocery stores that sell over priced organic food.

In the event that you were really wondering, so far, so good. But I might rethink all of this come Winter. Then I’ll just have to write a post with the words “PLEASE SEND BOOZE” and you’ll know right then and there that it’s an absolute emergency and that maybe Upstate NY wasn’t the best idea ever.

How I’ll be spending the next two weeks

August 10, 2007 | Filed under: Fotografias, Straight Jacket, The Great Moving Caper, This side of the Hudson

“ Chaos is a name for any order that produces confusion in our minds.” ~George Santayana

I’m really not sure how much longer I can stand this. But since my suitcase is now permanently stuck to my floor. I should really think about doing something about all of this:

(Best viewed large if you aren’t easily disturbed)

(This puts Chris Jordan’s “My suitcase from BlogHer has yet to be unpacked” to SHAME)

(I should also mention that parents? This is what you need to be prepared for when your child leaves, then moves roughly four times in six years. Fair warning)

Not a rhetorical question

July 19, 2007 | Filed under: Humdrum, The Great Moving Caper

  “There are no foolish questions, and no man becomes a fool until he has stopped asking questions.”  ~Charles Proteus Steinmetz

If your super cool and laid back coworker, offered you a room in her perfect locale, hardwood floor, balcony having condo. Would you say yes?

The end of The Great Moving Caper

May 11, 2007 | Filed under: The Great Moving Caper

“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.” ~Havelock Ellis

In case you wanted to know how the packing and moving is going:

I’m so over moving. Moving is dumb. And the reason for the wine is not to drink myself into a stupor while unpacking, it’s because in Upstate NY I highly doubt that Prosecco is $6.99.

True story

May 10, 2007 | Filed under: Oh The Stupidity You'll See, The District Of Columbia, The Great Moving Caper

“Before we work on artificial intelligence why don’t we do something about natural stupidity?” ~Steve Polyak

Last evening, a beautiful one at that, was my goodbye party. On a roof top deck where I imbibed more than one drink (gasp!) and cried. It was a wonderful time with my absolute favorite people in the world.

Then on the way home, this conversation took place:

Scene: DC Cab on U Street after a quick stop at Ben’s Chilli Bowl

Him: Where are you from?

Me: New York

Him: Oh, I can tell. You just don’t sound like you’re from around here

10 minutes later

Me: You can stop here

Him: What’s the fare?

Me: $8.80

Him: (looking at me from the rearview mirror and sounding truly shocked) You just sound so much like how the white people talk. You sound like those white girls.

Me: and for that? You’re getting EXACT CHANGE (proceeds to count out 80 cents in NICKLES and PENNIES) (ass)