Job is quit. Some stuff is packed. Beloved old car is sold. And now after about two months of talking about it, planning for it and losing sleep over it, the move is upon us. My part of it, at least. From the comfortable land of big yards, big porches and big ass trucks to the beautiful but cramped confines of one of the most expensive cities in the USA.
This, friends, is why I believe I am and always will be a walking, talking architect of opposites. A non-habit forming experience junky. A safe adventure seeker. Your friendly, neighborhood abandonment specialist. That was fun. Now what? I’m not suggesting that I’m irresponsible or insincere. Quite the opposite, actually. If I love something, I find it nearly impossible to settle on a memory. If something intrigues me, I want to become apart of it. Even if it’s completely disconnected from the world that’s in front of me.
So, with that, our reunion with the Midwest has come to a close. It wasn’t quite how I fantasized it would be, but few things are. I will always speak highly of the MoKan region. It’s my duty. After all this part of the world is responsible for the odd person I am today.
Happy Friday. I mean it. For what it’s worth, the original intent of this blog was to tell Chicago stories. It was about other people. The strange characters of the city. The unexpected encounters. However, over the course of the last couple of years, it became more about me and the family. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I hope the citizens of San Francisco will put things back on track. We’ll see.