I took a job the other day, and then I got a second offer. That never happens to me. So, I did what any anal-retentive, commitment-phobic girl would do. I made about a thousand lists. Pros and cons, blah blah blah. I decided on the one with the more pros. Also the one with more responsibility, more of a commute, more of a leadership role. It’s official. I’m now an adult. Next thing you know, I’ll be purchasing cookware. God help me.
When you decide to move and give your two weeks’ notice at a job, you start to notice more. I notice the people I work with more in the past week than I have for 10 months. My coworker John, the ultimate scientist-former-hippie who speaks of the old days when he wore a "Disco Sucks t-shirt with a big-ass pot leaf on it." My younger female coworker, who is an MIT grad and wicked-smart, but still asks me for dating advice on a daily basis (why she does that, I have NO clue). My boss, the always-made-up Louisiana woman who understands my cravings for Waffle House omelets and our shared past culture of southern sorority life. I’ll miss the people here, for sure.
I’m noticing the dogs I see everyday on my walk to my car. I’ve learned a lot of their names and have memorized their fuzzy faces. I’m noticing the sound of sirens throughout the city – something I’ve gotten so used to and have completely tuned out until now. Everything here in Chicago tastes better this week, like the fresh tamales at Tony’s Burrito that I will crave like crack-cocaine upon my departure. I’ll miss having a Starbucks on every single corner...and that’s no exaggeration in this city. I’ll miss Foster Beach and running on Lake Michigan. I’ll miss the Tap, our local pub. The Tap is our Cheers...
This weekend, I ran my errands as usual, then got into my car and did something I haven’t done since I moved here. I tried to get lost. I just drove with direction abandon, and took wrong turns to get lost on purpose. Much to my dismay, though, I could NOT GET LOST IN DOWNTOWN CHICAGO! I couldn’t believe it. I know my way around this city as much as any other city I’d lived in for years. I guess it really IS time to leave...
It’ll be a week of remembrance while I pack boxes and stack them neatly in my new storage-space bedroom. It’ll be a week of putting things behind me once and for all as I throw away old, sorted memories from years past. Case in point: I pitched my wedding album in our alley trash yesterday. So very liberating, indeed.
I think it was even better than the tamales...
