So I've just moved to Florida.
After two years in upstate New York, I'm trading the subzero windchill for humidity, the road-rage-in-the-shopping-aisle rudeness for the almost-stiflingly polite, and the bomb-cyclone for the hurricane.
Lest you think I went soft and moved south to escape the cold and the speed and the malice like so many retired snowbirds, I did not. This was a career-motivated move.
Okay, well at least mostly.
But reasons aside, I have moved. And I find that anytime I move, I begin having strange and unwelcome thoughts. The first of these is that I should get married; the second that I should buy a truck.
But for realz, moving by yourself is hard. There's like a bazillion things that you need to do all at the same time. Like go to the city utilities building that is really only open while you're supposed to be at work or find a time for the cable guy to come.
And then there's decisions, Decisions, DECISIONS — that you have to make and no one can really help you, because ultimately they only really affect you.
I should qualify this by saying that any of the places I've moved — even overseas — I've always had friends or family there who were awesome and more than willing to assist in anyway they could. But it's still tough.
Normally I really prefer being alone, but moving pretty much always makes me wish I wasn't.
And then there's the truck. If I bought a truck, it would be much easier to move furniture.
That's all I have to say about the truck.
So I'm here for the fourth time in as many years, having these strange thoughts. But I'm sure it will pass. It always does. And I'll continue to blissfully drive my subcompact on into my solitary and misanthropic future.
Which is not to say that if you're passing through Tallahassee at any point in the next couple years you shouldn't swing by for a visit. You absolutely should.