Moving on up

Or out, or something.

For the past two year and half years, I've lived in the Northeast FOR GRADUATE SCHOOL PURPOSES ONLY might I amend, lest anyone think I'm actually living in this hell hole of my own freewill. And since I've been here, I've given the region I live in the not-so-fond moniker Yankeeland. Currently, I have the privilege (smirk) of residing in a city that shall *also* remain nameless (probably a completely silly precaution since my readership is all of one, wait no, two(!) close friends/family members).

Now, between roommate fiascos galore and the general scut of graduate school life, I've managed to move locally three times already. Naiively, I figured I would be at my current abode (downtown) until graduation, which was at that time projected to be May 2006. After, however, deciding that trimester-long sleeping marathons are noncontributory to society no matter how hard you push the envelope, I become a Graduate School Drop-Out, got a Real Job, Got Married (all in same month) and decided in the flurry of activity surronding the All New and Semi-Improved Grown Up Version of My Life to stay in Yankeeland for a little while longer than originally anticipated.

The half-baked idea behind it all, I suppose, was that being a new nurse, I had the unique opportunity to hone those nascent skills at my current job rather than try to carve out a professional identity in a brand new hospital in a different locale, all the while trying to remain innocous enough not to incur the wrath of G-d or bat-of-hell Yankee drivers during my extended-release stay.

So.

While I think I'm doing reasonably well on counts one and two (the marriage thing and the real job thing) something was, well, missing from my life, even after my merciful release from academic Danaidean drudgery straight into the ever loving arms of paid Danaidean drudgery (work). Recently, I had a chance to be reunited with my beloved ten-year-old dog, Piper and needed to find pet-friendly housing stat. While this has been accomplished (yey! we found one-bedroom condo one block from the beach = no more downtown hijinx) the ugly truth still remains: now we've got to move all our crap.

On the other hand, sure, having your car broken into and cd player stolen twice in two years, being accosted by prostitutes and panhandlers while out walking the dog not to mention the constant urban symphony of foul language, random gunfire and first responder vehicles has its dubious charm, but I doubt somehow we'll miss it.