I could write a very “insightful” post about leaving the NY area after moving her three-and-a-half years ago with a duffel bag and $300, but I just don’t have it in me at the moment. It is weird though, that I came to Manhattan with my dog and said duffel bag, and now I’m leaving with Luke and a baby. Buckley is already waiting for us in VA, and I still even have the duffel bag packed away in one of Luke’s millions of boxes.
If I was already a little burned out on the NYC area, with it’s unbelievable inability to make any task (like leaving town or grocery shopping) simple, spending a year in Jersey City convinced me that maybe genocide wasn’t completely unjustified in all situations.
So we packed up the baby and left. I don’t know exactly what I had planned to have accomplished when I left New York, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t involve working a random office job for three years and getting knocked up. That’s not to say I’m unhappy with the way things turned out–quite the contrary. I always said I never wanted to raise kids in New York, and now I’m not.
I also said I never wanted to move back to Northern Virginia, but it’s kind of nice to be able to pawn the kid off on family members who I (somewhat) trust. I have a new car and a Harris Teeter right across the street, so I can easily get the hell out of town and grocery shop, respectively. While the new place doesn’t have a working stove and the mass of boxes makes it look like a hobo camp, I like it.
It’s a new time in my life, and quite honestly, I’m as excited to embark on it as I was when I moved to New York. In fact, I may be even more excited since this change won’t involve selling comedy tickets to tourists in Times Square. And that’s always a plus.
