A few days ago, a familiar scene unfolded in my in-law’s driveway. Mike, our friend Brett, and Digby all climbed in to our packed to the seams station wagon and headed west. And also south. Digby is a new addition to the crew, but Brett and Mike have made several cross-country trips starting in high school. They drove 30 hours in two days, which is also a form of torture, I’m pretty sure, but they have made it safe and sound.
And get this, New Yorkers: Mike has already secured a washer/dryer for the house. That’s right, friends. I am the proud owner of my very first, my very own, washer/ dryer. As much as I enjoyed our weekly chats with the owner of our laundromat in Brooklyn, I will not miss the mysterious holes that appeared in LITERALLY EVERY THING I OWN! I believe I have reached domestic nirvana.
Luke and I have hung back in Connecticut with our family while Mike awaits the arrival of the moving truck. Currently, we are living out of suitcases and I am sleeping next to a framed photo of my brother giving his high school graduation speech and a stack of pre- y2k math textbooks that still have the power to put me into an uncommon state of panic. If you haven’t seen the SNL rap Back Home Ballers do yourself a little favor and watch. And then think of me. But in all seriousness, we are so grateful to our parents who have scooped us up during this time of transition and have been so generous in supporting us moving their precious grandson 2,000 miles away.
p.s. thanks to my internet pen pal (hi, McChillin!) I’ve added a follow button so you can be updated when a new post is up. Fun, right? I sure think so.