In Contract

I have to apologize, blog-style, for the protracted absence of substantive posts in this space; Speedy and I have been going through a very busy, high-stress period, not only as the boy seems to be hitting a new level of mobility and activity daily, but as we try to sell our co-op and envision a new life, unecumbered by urban pressures and the financial strain of debt.

Add this to the fact that Speedy has not one, not two, but maybe four or five new gigs in lieu of her old job, and we have a very new routine to adjust to. A non-routine. Have I mentioned how I am a creature of habit and enjoy need my routines? Yes, it's true that Speedy used to work until 8,9, 10 three or four nights a week, leaving me with the dogs, the cats and most of all the boy-- and now she is home, usually before I am, the dogs are walked, the boy is picked up, and she is often embroiled in or contemplating a cooking project for the evening. And yet, it feels busier and more stressed out that ever. I feel less in charge of the time, because now Speedy is there with her wants and agennda. No longer do I have a stretch of 4 or 5 hours after work that I can schedule to the minute in order to get done the things I need to get done, and reward myself with 20 minutes of youtube watching or a phone chat with a long-distance friend. Things feel freer, yes. But less structured, too.

The struggle to find a new routine is further complicated by the fact that soon all routines will be out the window and remade. We are officially in contract on our co-op and will be moving probably by September 1. New town, new place, new life. I will try to keep my old job for now-- for the steady income and the insurance, but that's about all we are trying to maintain. And that's just one of many unknowns, since I have yet to work up the courage to ask my boss about it. We don't know what town we're gong to live in, where Speedy will work, how we will manage the boy and working, or even if we are going to rent or buy. We might not even have a place lined up in time, and may well spend a period of time living over my parents' garage in northern VT. I have not written this down before, and I can actually feel my fingers going a bit tingly at the prospect of all that's about to happen. @#$%^&!! Or, as Ex texted me, fat-fingered in her vicarious anxiety, "Holly Balls!"

There is so much I am going to miss about this life. My friends most of all. The ones that we spend almost every Sunday with especially. I have been fast friends with Michelle since 2001, when I rented a room in her ex-girlfriends apartment, and, on the first day when I was unpacking my stuff, Michelle came in, sat on my bed and started a conversation that we've never stopped. The GF disappeared, I moved to a different neighborhood. Michelle move across country, then back again, and we're still as good as family. I know that won't end, but it pains me to be the one moving away this time. My other friends, including Ex, and my very strong support system here that I have never doubted. Whether I needed a shoulder, a glass of wine, a free meal or a baby-sitter, I have never ever gone in need for long in this city. Having that network so far away will be very hard.

But I am ready. This past week I have spent at my parents' house in VT (without internet access. I am still catching up on the goings on in blog-town (does anyone else think of it as a very homo-friendly, fecund version of "Our Town"?) I have much more to share-- the boy's first swim lesson, the drama of a cruising baby, the breath-of-hell heatwave we've been having, and, oh-will-this-child-ever-sleep? worries... Slowly but surely I am trying to catch up. More surely and less slowly, I hope, going forward.