It’s been almost(? only?) two weeks and I’m still waiting to get to the …plus c’est la même chose half of that saying. I don’t quite feel like I live here yet. It feels more like an extended vacation or something.
Still living out of boxes; still need to go buy a new couch (more on that later); still haven’t really cooked much of anything yet (not that I cook much anyway when it’s nearly 100° outside like it was yesterday).
That being said, I really love it. Like, really REALLY love it here.
I feel a bit like… okay, you know when you start dating someone new, and you’re so crazy into him/her, and you want to tell everyone you know, but at the same time you’re afraid you’ll jinx things somehow or find out s/he’s not that into you after all? It’s like that.
For instance, the three of us were walking home from the subway last night (after witnessing an incredible display of lightning — I know it was the same lightning I would have seen in Washington Heights, but man, there’s just so much more sky here, it’s crazy). As we were heading down the street, a girl and her mother passed us going the other way.
“Hi, Trixie!” the girl called out from under an umbrella and waved.
My kid looked momentarily startled and then replied, “Oh! Hi!” and then waved back.
Reader, I could have cried.
After nearly five years in our old apartment, I am nearly certain no one knew any of our names and the only person to say hello as we passed on the street was the mailman. (And not even the regular daily mailman, just the guy who delivered packages.)
So… maybe this was just a fluke and maybe I’m jinxing myself by even talking about it. Maybe this sort of thing will never ever happen again and I’ll look back on that instance and wonder what went wrong.
But then again maybe not.