Flipflops in the Rain


i avoided the cliche postal service reference here — you’re welcome.

the movers are here. they’re packing up my stuff, and i’m blogging and watching step 2 and trying not to cry.

i’ve been able to keep my emotions in check a lot better than i ever would’ve expected during the past few weeks (minus the incident where i threw my jack down and fled the room at my birthday party this weekend, but that’s beside the point). i attribute this to the fact that i’m incredibly excited to begin a new adventure and that i’m confident that moving back west is the best decision for me at the moment. i also attribute it to the fact that i have the most amazing, wonderful, awesome friends in d.c., and they’ve held my hand every step of the way.

but now, it’s just me and my cat and some anonymous movers and lots of cardboard boxes in a house that’s echoing from the emptiness on the walls. the move is finally real. and i’m really, really sad.

d.c., i’ll miss you and the cherry blossoms and the thunderstorms and the brunches and the dance parties and even the super-annoying tourists. but because some of the best people in the world still live here, i know i’ll be back to visit soon. and for that, i’m really, really happy.

/end emoliciousness. (and pithy/coffeeonwheels, i didn’t cry while writing this. fyi.)