Just when it seemed I would never write here again, I am back. I have missed this, and besides, I am quitting my job, soon, so I'm going to have some time to kill.
Yes, it is the end of an era. In 17 days, my DC life will be packed away, and I will drive up I-95, have a little vacation (July and August lazing at the beach-- I feel so French), and then start my new adventure in Boston. I'm preparing already, getting my immunization records so I can prove to my grad school that I will not start a diphtheria epidemic and trying to become a Celtics fan. So far, both of these things are going well, although I am already a Red Sox fan, so I know that the Celtics' lead could blow their lead in the blink of an eye.
It's starting to sink in that I'm leaving. We had a going away party Friday night, since it was probably the last weekend night that we'll both be here, and today I showed the apartment to prospective tenants. It was actually kind of fun, even though no one took me up on my offer of a beer, courtesy of the keg that is still hanging out in our living room. Based on everyone's feedback, either our apartment is enormous and our decorating job is super cute, or every other apartment currently on the market is a catastrophic shit hole, making ours a beacon in the wilderness by comparison.
The best part, aside from the flattery, was meeting the people looking at the apartment. There were a few engaged couples and some girls who coincidentally went to college with my cousin, but my favorites were the girls who were looking for their first post-college apartment. As I showed them around and answered their (many) questions, it struck me that they are Marissa and me circa 2007. They had looked at a million apartments already, trekking around DC in the miserable heat, nervous about missing out on a good place, freaking out about the application ("What does she mean, "previous landlord?" Should I say 'college?' 'My parents?'). Granted, I have not really matured that much as a person in terms of apartment hunting ("Hi, Mom. I think I found my apartment, but you know how I am about snap decisions, so I just need you to talk to me a little and tell me that I'm not being a spendthrift or an idiot"). In fact, I guess the closest comparison I have is the week before the room draw in college, when the underclassmen would come look at our suite and try to figure out if their beer pong table would fit next to the futon. But it was nice to be on the outgoing side of the equation, assuring them that the utilities aren't expensive and that the other tenants don't mind the occasional party.
In any case, this feels like it was a good warm-up for the next big event, my last day of work on Friday. Fortunately, I don't think I have to give tours of my cubicle.