The Move

On February 28th, 2014, I made a bold move and left New York City, a place I had lived for the so-far-32.5 years of my entire life*, and moved to Portland.  No, not west-coast Portland.  It took about 10 times of people freaking out and asking me if I was going to become a Seahawks fan before I started saying "I'm moving to Maine...Portland, Maine."  Previous to this, my biggest jump had been from Queens to Brooklyn, and while switching boroughs might mean people questioning your loyalty and ability to still proclaim "QUEENS, WHAT!"**, there's a lot less to plan for and preparation involved.

I had been offered a better job at a company in Portland, so my timing was based on when they wanted me to start.  I had hoped for a leisurely 3 month transition period, which most people would use to sell the apartment they co-owned, visit Portland and find an apartment their, pack, etc., but which I hoped to milk vacation days at my current job.  Not me.  I was finally able to answer questions about where I was going to live when an apartment essentially fell in my lap two weeks before I was to leave.  My priorities were such that I researched how to get a library card before I thought about hiring movers to help upon arrival.  Whatever.  It worked out.  I'm now jacked AND I have a list of books on hold at the Portland Public Library, main branch.

*unless you count the ages of 0 to 3, and I do not.

**traded in for a rowdy, prolonged "BROOOOOOK-LYN"