So with any luck, while you are reading this I will be driving a U-Haul truck from Exeter, New Hampshire, to Park Slope, Brooklyn.
That would be if New York can avoid tsunamis, tornadoes, typhoons, monsoons, and any other kind of natural/manmade disaster to which geography is heir for the rest of this week. (and yes, I KNOW that Route 66 doesn’t go through New York. But still, it’s such a great road-trip song…)
I will be returning to the city of my birth, the closest thing I have to a hometown. And I am feeling pretty fucking awesome about that.
I’ve only got temporary digs, at the moment–a rental in a brownstone that’s been sold already, super cheap until the actual closing (through October, anyway.) Here’s a pic of what will be my new block:
Pretty damn great, right? Small but with a garden…
At the moment, it is Thursday, and I am supposed to be packing. More than I have already packed. I pick up the U-Haul tomorrow afternoon,
and have to book the guy to help me load it, and have the post office forward my mail, and remember to turn off the electricity and cable before I hit the road. And all that other grownup stuff I so totally suck at.
I have actually made a list of all the shit I have to do between now and Saturday. It’s a Word file. It scares me. I prefer not to open it. This is part of the reason I suck at being a grownup.
But… I have moved before (NYC to Long Island
to Hawaii
to Long Island
to Carmel
to Dobbs Ferry
to Long Island
to NYC
to Rhinebeck
to Bronxville
to NYC-for-the-summer-of-sophomore-year-in-college
to Dublin
to NYC-for-the-summer-of-junior-year
to Long Island
to Williamstown
to Syracuse
to around-the-world-for-a-year-with-a-backpack
to Syracuse
to Pittsfield
to NYC
to Boulder
to Cambridge
to Berkeley
to Exeter
to… NYC again.)
It will happen. I will get off my bed and put on some REALLY LOUD MUSIC and actually start putting dishes in a box and throwing out more of my clothes (okay, not throwing out, carrying down to the garage in my current building to pile on top of the donations box, but still: DUMPING.)
And then… then I will be on the road again.
Please wish me luck, and forgive me for not checking in on comments… I’m trying not to drive off the BQE right now…
I got whiplash reading that.
I've only switched counties four times in the last five years, and really, that's enough for me. I'm staying put for until my stepson is out of college. Then all Ohioans are required by state law to consider moving to Florida or Hilton Head Island.
I may piss them all off and move to California. Should be nice and cheap by then.
Ah, Jim… I'm beginning to think whiplash is my hometown. And four moves in five years for you? OY! The distance doesn't matter, even if it's just county to county. It's the damn packing and unpacking.
I pain your feel…
And I highly recommend California. Should be nice and cheap indeed, if it hasn't outright fallen off into the ocean. (in which case, hey, should be FREE to live there, right?)
Welcome home…again. And travel safely if not wisely.
Oh, Louise-my-darling-one… "wisely" is undoubtedly out of the question, safely is devoutly to be wished. And can I maybe convince you to come visit the other coast?? I miss your gorgeous self so very much…
I you pay your bills and stop robbing banks, you could stay in one place longer. Happy moving. Judy
Cornelia,
May the move be as uneventful or adventuresome as you want it to be. May you and your possessions arrive in NYC in even better shape than when you left. And may this be a wonderful transition to whatever comes next.
Happy moving, Miss C!
Have fun in Park Slope!
Heh, you're a nomad, but it's obvious New York is your lodestone. Safe journies, my friend. One of these days I really am going to have to see NYC in person, and perhaps visiting you will be the breakthrough reason.
Well, we'll try this again — Squarespace ate my comment.
Park Slope — great neighborhood. One of the best friends from high school lives there. Great dog park, restaurants, cafes, bookstores. It was the otehr side of hell when they moved in during the 1970s. It's been gentrified — or gentri-ruined, depending on your view.
Speaking of road tunes — and given the subject of your post — I can't help but think this toe-tapper will resonate: Johnny Cash, "I've Been Everywhere." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmFN9C9PVpg
Have a good move, Cornelia. Remember you have had lots of valuable experience! That brownstone is making me cry for the one we had on Comm Ave, also for just a few months. But how fantastic it was to look out over the Public Garden in the fall and walk over to Newbury Street for coffee. But oh – that picture of Weeks Bridge . . . such memories of Step and me there walking across, watching the scullers. You can do this, Cornelia. You survived the crazy headmaster "west o' Worcester," so I know, my heroette, you will be brilliant at this, too.
Hey Cornelia, NYC again! Dinner in September maybe? (I'll be there, another great tune…)
I used to move every six months…what I can't believe is that I've been in the same house for 22 years now. Very odd considering how I started out, West Coast, East Coast, West Coast…you'll be fine.
Happy Trails. a
Um, Cornelia? Not sure it's wise to post the evidence of your trail out here in public like this. Unless maybe you're tired of being on the lam and wish they'd just hurry up and apprehend you already. 😉
Wishing you safe travels and all the happiness you can stand in your new/old hometown.
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