There’s nothing quite like moving. Talking about it doesn’t quite convey the chaos, the stress, the irritation that is involved with the process. Not to mention that it is hard to do something as drastic as an international move by oneself. I know I am off for a great adventure but there have been times I‘ve wished for a project manager, an unlimited budget, and a postal meter.
There have been both good and bad moments. For instance: my bike got stolen. We could chat about that (like a punch to the gut). Or we could chat about how a girl accused me of hitting her car, even though I was parked (cops, insurance…that was fun). Those were just diversions.
I had a great party with fireworks, swimming, and a postcard sunset. Had another great party. And another one. I’m kind of partied out. There were the moments of sadness, not fun, but meaningful- to be expected.
Saying goodbye to the snails was as hard as parting with a trusted lover who you have always known will never totally satisfy you. Hurty- on both sides.
I get on a plane tomorrow night, headed to Newark. I’ll be in NYC by Sunday. Wanna hang out? I’m around until mid-September.