Migration

Hello old blog. It has been quite some time since I laid eyes on you! I had actually completely forgotten I had once been a "blogger", but as my life is always changing, perhaps it is time I started again.

In June, I had to pack up all of my things and move from my sweet little townhouse in the Italian Market to my new home in the Graduate Hospital area. It was a difficult move, my old house was the first place I've felt at home at since my childhood residence. There was something so comforting about hearing bits of jazz songs drift into our windows from the park around the corner, and saying hello to our favorite old Italian pervert, the self-christened "Hubba-Hubba". Though our new house is bigger, cleaner, and filled with helpful amenities such as a washing machine, the neighborhood leaves much to be desired. Our next-door neighbor leaves passive-agressive post-its on our door, and the others throw block parties that we aren't invited to. I miss walking to the market for breakfast, and having a bar I could stumble home from two blocks away.

And so I resolve, in one way or another, to find my way back to the east side of Broad Street the next time I move. No matter how long it takes or how hard I have to look, I will live in that neighborhood again.