We’re moving. All the way from this part of the country here to that part of the country waaaaaay over there – all the way to the coast. I want to write a post about how I’ll miss all the people in my life here, but I’m in the process of selling our house. That means fixing/cleaning/packing around the clock. As the saying goes, ‘All work and no play angrys up DadisthenewMom’s blood,’ so I’ll write that post another time. I’ve been craftsmanning on our house nonstop since we made the decision. Have I thanked all the people who are watching The Child and feeding us? If I neglected that nicety I apologize – expect the blogging version of a slap on the butt and a ‘good hustle’ soon. I love you all and I’m honestly fond of this city (most of the time). Today, though, this place gets a hearty ‘smell ya later’ from DadisthenewMom.
Dear City I Live In, your summers are Arakis hot and your winters are Hoth cold. Your politics are skewing further away from me by the minute. You tear down historic homes to build dollar stores and you look down on me because we had a homebirth. You have poor public transportation. City I Live In, you so fat when you go the movies you sit next to everybody. You nasty, City I Live In, you nasty.
I’d shake this city’s dust from my feet and proclaim something along the lines of “this place can’t hold me” but, nerd that I am, I would have to take umbrage with my own speech. As far as dust is concerned it’s safe to say I’m more on the production side rather than the receiving end so any shaking will just add to the problem*. As far as not being able to contain me, well let’s be reasonable Me. I barely hit ‘average’ height-wise and to market myself as some sort of Godzilla-esque City Crushing Super Dad is just pure falsehood.
In reality, the second I have this house on the market I will walk around this town and just start hugging trees and dogs and people and stores and even the gray, gray sky. This has been my home. I have family here. I have friends here. This is where I built a support network with some of the finest humans alive to help raise my daughter. I’m excited to move but first I have to go through the sadness of missing the place where I am.
Actually, no. The first thing on my to do list is paint those fucking stairs, wait, pour new concrete, wait, switch all our furniture around? Fuck it. Sadness and nostalgia cancelled. Back to angry house repair.