transplanting again

I've been meaning to start up our blog again... but then, I've been meaning to do a lot of things that never seem to come to fruition. On Thursday evening I had the perfect entry point to the blog, so perfect that I have to share it even though it feels like distant memory this morning. I wandered past the Goethe Institut in DC's Chinatown on my way to catch the Metro home, incidentally they posted Volker Braun's poem in the window: ich kann bleiben wo der Pfeffer waechst. But by the time I arrived home, I was too tired to post and still had work to do for one job before going to the next job on Friday morning. Such is the life of a contractor.

This morning I awoke and knew that if I was going to write about our next move before it happened, this was my last opportunity. "Now or never" speaks to a procrastinator. I'm sitting amidst an array of boxes at the moment: the final round, freshly packed last night. The flaps still need to be sealed, labeled. Most of them won't be opened again for another year. The labels give me comfort that we would be able to locate an item quickly if we needed or wanted to find it.

We won't need most of our possessions next year: we will be house-sharing with friends of ours, dear friends from podiatry school at Temple and now co-residents with Eric at the Hospital Center. We've traveled the same road for six years, so it seems fitting that we live together in the seventh and final year of this adventure.

Besides, we're excellent basement-squatters: we took up residence in the Anderson parents' basement for several months before moving to Silver Spring two years ago. This time we'll be paying rent, albeit a significant savings compared to having our own condo. It will give us the ability to travel on our free weekends next year. (Third-year residents in Eric's program don't take call; the program is weighted extremely heavy on the front end, per the last post in 2008.) And we'll be tucking away some real savings--finally--to start a nest egg for our own place when this chapter of our lives comes to a close.

For the record: I did see Eric over the last two years--sometimes he was awake, occasionally he was coherent. OK, perhaps I exaggerate a bit, but it certainly wasn't an easy two years. Next year won't be easy pie, but we do see a light at the end of the tunnel. Cheers, I'll toast to that. Time to seal those boxes and pick up the truck...