The details are still being hammered out, but Inappropriately Hot Foreign Wife and I are planning to move in a few months. We've had enough of the Ant Farm... well, she's had enough of the Ant Farm. I hated that fucking place from day one, but it was conveniently located close to my parents and her brother and his family- the folks who make up our social safety net. Such things are important when your spouse looks at the English language the same way you or I might look at the assembly manual for the space shuttle. Those days are passing, though: my wife's English, after 5 years and thousands of hours of ESL classes, is now semi-passable.
Well, that, and one of the Section 8 housing pricks down the street kidnapped a neighbor's kid a few weeks ago. Sadly, he survived the arrest when caught. That event put the candles on the cake. It was a happy day when my wife said to me "Hohnee, ees time to move."
I failed utterly at getting her to agree to move to Maine. Her penultimate 'no' came in a simile that finally got through to me; she really doesn't want to go. It was something like "Hohnee, pleese, chu make-a me liv in Mainey, ees like me make-a you live in New York. Everee time chu call me after chu have to go to the grocery sto in Brooklyn, I am afraid chu will put a gun in your mouf. Dat's how I feel about Mainey."
So, we're casting a wider net for the move. We're exploring a few other idea, but are narrowing the search. And, in tune with that, I am, again, hammering out the working days and saving my centavos for the Next Big Thing. Which will NOT include neighbors with section 8 housing subsidies. If I'm going to pay a couple of grand a month (it's true. Boston's bedroom community 'burbs are wicked expensive) to live in a box, I'll be blue and stiff and have a tag on my toe if my neighbor is paying $2000 a month less than I do to live where I do. Call me a prick or a snob if you want. Bad enough I don't get shit for the taxes I pay. I'll be fucked in half sideways if I have to look at the entitled class while I'm staring out the windows, too.
So, yeah, some things are going on, and thus, blogging is light. I'm wicked excited about it. Nervous, slightly, of course. I spent from 18-30 never living in the same place for more than a year or so, which took me from Maine to Florida, with occasional stops in out of the way places like Scotland.
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