Well, readers, it's already been another month, and it is officially holiday season in New York. We've all seen it in movies, read about it in books, heard about it in songs....but to live it, that's another experience altogether.
To put it as eloquently and authentically as Tolstoy did: I have woken up. I have awoken from a pleasant dream to a terrifying and exhilarating new reality that has whisked the clouds from my mind and made me feel...alive. Truly alive, in a way I have never felt before.
I keep waiting for a crippling reality check, some sign to tell me this was a mistake...things couldn't possibly be going so well, could they? Didn't everyone say this city was "tough" and we were "crazy" for wanting to live here? As it turns out, when you make the decision to ignore negativity and just follow your gut...it takes you exactly where you should be. And so begins my love letter to you, New York.
The journey was long, achy, and at times smelly. But as I sit here typing on top of a box in our little kitchen, city humming outside, Marshall snoring in the dog-width hallway while my husband installs our IKEA table, I can say it was 100% worth the 3 day drive and 9 state lines we crossed.
Nothing will test the strength of a brand new marriage quite like apartment hunting in a city like New York. It will test your relationship, it will test the strength of your very soul, and most urgently, it will test the strength of your bladder and/or colon.
My designer clothes are at least 3 seasons out of style, dug out of a thrift store bin, and covered in dog hair. And life could not be more grand.