I have a confession ... ok, maybe a few.

OMG, what a month!  Actually, I guess it's only been about 2, almost 3, weeks. But it seems like longer!  Let's recap what's been going on with me:

1.  Got laid off.
2.  Had to buck up, finish packing, and move.
3.  Move some more, because I have a LOT of shit.
4.  File for unemployment, spend 2 weeks wallowing in misery, saved only by the project of unpacking in my new place.
5.  Find new job and gladly rejoin normal society.
6.  Really miss blogging!

Ok, let me deconstruct a little.  First, getting laid off.  The contract for the project I've been on - and expected to last through the holidays - got pulled on a Friday at 5 pm.  Yes, awesome, you wish you were me.  So I found out right at the beginning of Columbus Day weekend that I'd be unemployed come Monday.  And better yet, the client needed us to come in on Columbus Day to process out, so I didn't even get a long weekend out of it.  Now, I've been working on an independent contractor type basis for awhile now, so I'm used to projects ending and having a little time before finding a new one.  However, I am not used to being blindsided, and especially not at 5 pm on a Friday.  Mama was not happy.

But, I still had to move.  And had a lot of packing still to do, so in a way, having those couple of extra days off was a blessing in disguise.  Now, don't get it twisted.  Just because I had a few extra days doesn't mean that moving was a breeze.  I shudder to think how bad it would have been if I hadn't had those couple of extra days off.  Since I had the whole week free, and was getting the new apartment with about 4 days of overlap before closing out on the old place, I decided to move as much as I could in carloads before we did the furniture on that Friday.  I absolutely despise having to pack all of my clothes and shoes and pots and pans into boxes (such a waste of time and money!) so I thought this idea was genius.  It didn't go too bad at first.  But after about the, oh, twentieth carload of stuff, I started to get a little discouraged.  I mean, I have a LOT of shit.  A lot.  And it just took forever (or four days) to move it all.

Let's just say this: even after working my butt off Wednesday and Thursday, there still was a lot come Friday morning. The Dude's recommendation for truck size turned out to be a little off, meaning the truck was way too fucking small for all of my stuff.  Oh, and small truck means no handy-dandy loading ramp, so we had to step up and down to get in and out of the truck with each and every piece of my heavy furniture.  Fun!  I will say this - we both felt really accomplished once we moved all of that furniture ourselves.  But it left a lot to be done, even after we were done with the furniture.  And guess what? The Dude's awesome schedule left me to finish that by myself on Saturday.  Really, I didn't think it was a big deal.  And I knew that would be the case going in, hence the reason I tried to get most of it done earlier in the week.

Yes, this was all not that big of a deal ... until I dropped my fucking flat screen tv out of the back of the SUV.

Yep.  Sure did.  And if you're wondering whether flat screen tvs can survive that sort of damage (it was in the box), I can tell you this:  mine sure as hell didn't.  There is a big ass dent in the top of the case and while the screen isn't cracked (and yeah, as soon as I opened the box and saw the screen wasn't cracked, I thought I had dodged a bullet and did a little dance around my apartment ... until I plugged it in and turned it on) there sure is a distortion of the pixels that might as well be a crack, because that's exactly what it looks like.  I cried.  A lot.  (I only bought the tv in April.)  But eventually I laughed and got over it.  It still pains me a little to look at it and see that imperfection, but what can you do?  It's just a tv.  And it now is certainly my tv, marked in only the most tragic way that my clumsiness can.  *Sigh*

Ok, so after I finally got all my shit moved from one place to another, I realized that it was again lucky that I had all this free time to unpack.  And seriously people, I love organizing like nobody's business.  So really, while filing for unemployment and breaking my neck to dash to the computer every time I heard a new email arrive and thought it might be a job offer was a little depressing, I was seriously in heaven, having all that uninterrupted time to unpack and organize and decorate and nest.  It was blissful.  And soon enough, a new project popped up, and I was able to just finish up my place before going back to work today.  Honestly, not a moment too soon - just as cabin fever was about to set in.  The Dude should be back on Wednesday from his trip, and I'm excited for him to see that my life didn't totally fall apart.  The apartment looks good and I'm back to wearing normal clothes instead of my pajamas all day long.  Progress!  (Bonus:  I got all the paintings, shelves, assorted decorative items hung up on the walls myself!  I'm so earning points from him for that.)

So, to my confession.  Here it is:  I moved into an apartment without a washer/dryer ... aaaand I couldn't be happier.  When I started the search for a new apartment and saw how expensive even the older places along the orange line (where I've lived since 2001) had gotten, I decided to prioritize my needs for a new place and look in other neighborhoods.  I decided that closet space and a balcony, along with relatively updated kitchen and bath were must-haves.  And I also decided that I could live without my own washer/dryer and would actually prefer old, parquet floors.

I ended up with a great place in Crystal City, and for roughly $300 less a month, I went from 710 sq ft to 884, two walk-in closets, two other "double-wide" closets and a big pantry, a balcony at least twice the size of my old one ... and no washer/dryer in my unit.  The building has a laundry room, of course, and while I'm sure that there will be times I curse having to go downstairs when I just want to quickly wash a pair of jeans I want to wear later that night, it's been awesome so far.  It's so great to go at a low-traffic time and get 3 or 4 loads done all at the same time!  Such a time saver.  Plus, I'm really enjoying the extra closet space freed up by not having my own set.

And the best part of this whole experience?  It got me off the orange line, over into a new neighborhood.  Change is good, people.  And I'm really, really enjoying it so far.

I am in love, again.

It happens to me every year. October is the month where I get all googly-eyed and sappy and romantic, all over again. But stick with me here for a minute. While it boils over to all parts of my life, this little love story doesn't exactly start with The Dude.

I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but I'm going to say it again anyway. Fall is my absolute, most favorite time of year. I love waking up each morning and knowing that not only do I get to pick out a fun outfit, I get to top it off with a cute coat or sweater or little cotton scarf twirled around my neck. And real shoes! I totally fall into the trap of wearing flip flops during my commute in the spring and summer, and there's just something about wearing real shoes for the whole day that makes you feel so much more put-together. (And yes, it is now officially ok to wear tall boots, thankyouforyourpatience.) My hair looks fabulous, as well. It's not too hot and humid in my apartment in the morning to make blow drying an exercise in self torture, so I actually manage to leave the house looking well-coiffed more often than not.

The weather just cheers me as soon as I leave my building in the morning. I love the subtle bite of cold air when I step outside (some people apparently think it's so cold that gloves, scarves and wool coats are now required; I'm going to be really worried about them come January), the way it makes me feel more awake and the color it leaves on my cheeks. And although I had done so well at giving up Starbucks over the last 7 or 8 months, I've been drawn in again by the return of pumpkin spice lattes and their new toffee mochas. (Confession: I really do prefer Caribou Coffee, but there just isn't one convenient to my commute or my office. Sad face.) I somehow don't mind getting up a little earlier (maybe more than a little, since my hair doesn't blow dry itself) to have time to stop at Starbucks on my way to the office. Yes, I am embarrassingly commercialized for saying this, but there's something terribly satisfying about that warm, cardboard cup in your little paw as you march through the concrete jungle.

Cool weather, red and yellow leaves wafting down in barely-there morning breezes, heels and boots clicking and clacking on cold concrete sidewalks, coffee steaming from paper cups we pay way too much for but can't seem to completely live without ... as clichéd as it might sound, it all just makes me feel so content. Maybe it's because I was raised in a more-rural-than-suburban area and fled to a city as soon as I could get away, but it all feels so romantic to me. Every year, October does it for me.  I fall in love with DC all over again and can't help myself.

All the things I put off all summer because it was so. fucking. hot. I want to do them all now. Spend a day on the Mall, checking out museums that are blissfully (nearly) empty of tourists. Get hot chocolates and wander through the Sculpture Garden. Ride the carousel over and over again until we get the perfect self-portrait that I can use for Christmas cards. Wander through a farmer's market and pick up squashes and zucchinis and garlic for soups and breads and whatever other fun new recipes I can find. Get up early to walk around Roosevelt Island or watch the sunrise at Iwo Jima. Plot out Halloween costumes and outings to the pumpkin patch and haunted forests and apple orchards.  (Sigh)

I just feel happier.

Yes, I'm in the middle of moving and it's incredibly stressful at times, but even that isn't getting me down (though let's not spend too much time thinking about how I should be checking things off my list instead of sitting down to blog). I think even The Dude has noticed how different I seem. I've gone all sappy and doe-eyed with him, looking at him with (I'm sure) a ridiculous grin on my face while he tells me about his day, reaching up to kiss him in the middle of a sentence before he continues. It feels like the first months of dating, where there was nothing to argue over and we just felt happy to be around one another.

I realized all of this the other night when I was coming home on Metro. I wasn't nearly as bitter about the commute as usual. I had a little lilt in my step as I got off the escalator and felt the cold air hit my face. I didn't mind having to pull out my umbrella to fight off the rain. Even an annoying phone call from my ex-boyfriend (seriously, they have some sort of precise radar to hone in on the exact moment of your pure happiness to try and ruin it, wtf is up with that?) didn't daze me for too long.

So for a few weeks, or maybe longer if I'm lucky, I'm reunited with my old lover. He makes me feel even more beautiful, helps me love others more selflessly, reminds me that I am independent and energetic and spontaneous and adventurous, and teaches me again that smiling is sexy. He helps me remember why I stick around this area, in spite of all the complaining I do the other 10.5 months of the year. Because it's fall and I'm in love with DC, again.  And that's more than good enough for now.

Finally!

Dare I say it?  I think fall is finally here in DC.  This afternoon got decidedly chillier and there's just that something different in the air.  The breeze has a little bite to it.  The air smells like ... well, I don't know what, it just smells like fall.  It makes me want to go get a pumpkin spice latte and go apple picking.  I frickin' love this time of year.

I'll  be inside packing most of the weekend, along with watching football with The Dude (Go Sooners! Go Vikings!  And seriously, Go Chargers!) but it just actually seems fun to do it in sweatpants and a cami, with the windows wide open, not worried at all about getting too hot.

And by the way, I'm also getting really excited about the move, despite all the work.  I love having a new place, all shiny and clean, new space to decorate ... and especially the giant closets for all my stuff.  No more trading out clothes each season, because I'll finally have enough room for everything to be in the same place.  Awesome.