I'm glad we started renting this place in March and OCCASIONALLY sleep here on a weekend night because otherwise I would be in friggin culture and sensory shock when the full move happened.
I am sitting in my bedroom-to-be with three large windows open and it is perfectly quiet except for the cars passing by periodically. My husband and son are playing guitar in the living room-to-be. I can't see them and I hear them...at a distance.
This is so odd and scary. To call their names and to not be heard immediately.
Toto -- we're not in the East Village anymore. At least not tonight. My bedroom has a bathroom attached to it. What am I doing with two bathrooms? Maybe I should sublet one.
My dog Saki is staying close by me and wondering where the hell we are too.
My bedroom window faces the side of a beautiful stone church. Who in this town is a friggin Baptist? I can assure you, I'll be doing some research into that question as soon as I'm settled in during the Fall.
Please God -- let me know that we're doing the right thing living here for three years....not that I'm already counting.