What would you do if you had the opportunity to move to New York City for one year? Would you go knowing that you could probably return to your hometown at the end of a year if you wanted to?
The offer came today to move to New York City for about a year for Chad's work. There are so many questions and uncertainties. I don't know where to begin.
I love our house. I am so proud of all of the hard work that Chad and I have put into making it our home, but I shouldn't get hung up on material possessions and miss out on an amazing adventure, right? Or should I keep in mind all that I've been through in the past year and just enjoy the fruits of so much hard labor put into this house?
We haven't even been here in our house a full year yet. I get a little verklimt when I think of a new owner repainting these freshly painted walls. Chad and I put blood, sweat and tears (the tears were mostly from me when I thought it would NEVER be finished) into this home. I don't think I could bear to rent the house out for a year, because it would be weird to move all of our stuff out to storage, and then have to move back into our own home after strangers left their imprint on the place. What if the renters cooked meaty stew every week and then our house reeked forevermore? Gag!
I'd be fine with selling my car for a year in the big city. Truthfully, I have a twinge of buyer's remorse about buying another BMW back in October. I chose it chiefly because BMWs are the safest cars on the road, and because a slightly used BMW was cheaper than a new VW or a new Honda.
** Side rant: I hate that some people see the BMW badge and assume that I'm a high-maintenance snob. My own mother calls me materialistic based largely on this car purchase. I look in the mirror everyday and see the scar on my forehead where I violently collided with the dashboard of my dad's old Mustang when I was a kid in Louisiana. I still have a very vivid, visual memory of an EMT in a white uniform pulling me out of that orange muscle-car and putting me in the back of an ambulance. I remember the smell of iodine burning my eyes, and the sickening feeling of getting stitches sewn into my forehead. Thus, I'm a big fan of any car engineered to help a driver avoid accidents, but also fitted with generous crumple-zones, front and side curtain airbags, and steel beams down the sides, just in case. That said, I'll let those people assume where they can stick their assumptions about my car choice!**
I'd trade the safe BMW, and other people's assumptions about that car choice, for a year of walking, subways and taxi rides.
I would not move to New York City indefinitely. However, there's some sense of safety in knowing that there is an exit strategy if I / we hate it. ( As mentioned above, I like safety.) As long as I have Chad and my three sweet kitties with me, I think that a year in New York City would be like an extended travel adventure! Am I being manic?
I'm so, so torn. I'm planning the move to New York City in my head and alternately thinking about native, low-water plants for the yard in Austin. We haven't even done anything to the yard yet! ( You say to-may-toe, I say to-mah-to. You say dirt, I say yard.)
In other news, after five days of couch and bed rest, I'm finally starting to feel better. That was one energy-draining, lung-rattling cold! I'm coughing less and went through far less tissues today than the past few days. I might venture outside tomorrow!
