Seasonal Moving Disorder

It has been raining since Sunday...sigh...However, rain does make for the perfect reading weather. Today, bowl of popcorn in place, glass of red wine at the ready, I sat down to begin reading one of many on the long list of books that I plan to read this summer. Up first--and solely because it was what entered my Nook queue from the library most rapidly--Marian Keyes The Brightest Star in the Sky. It began slow, continued worse, but now, about three quarters of the way through, I find myself enjoying it. Not sure if you have the time/energy/patience to stick with it for that long, but, if you do, it's not a bad read. 

Set in Dublin, this novel is making me dream Dublin dreams...I am probably not going to get there for quite some time, but in the meantime, this girl can dream...

Something about those gates just makes me yearn...

Speaking of yearning... This weekend, I had a refreshing chat with a couple ten years older than M. and I. They have lived in New York City for eighteen years, to M. and I's eight. They have two children and live in an apartment in Williamsburg and have made a life here as artists. I think I often compare myself to friends who live in totally different places, or, in general, just have totally different situations, which often causes this internal dissonance about "normalcy" and where I should be at this point in my life. Every Spring, the thoughts begin to trickle in building to a harsh jet stream: I really need a walk-in closet. My life is just not complete without a dishwasher. How can one survive without two bathrooms?  

It was comforting to talk to this couple about things that I thought were abnormal that they simply laughed with refreshing acknowledgment at the very thought that I thought this was something I uniquely went through.  After being informed that, "Well, you know the saying about NYC right? It takes six months to adjust. One year to fall in love. And eighteen years to leave," I was told that my "unique" phenomenon had a name:"Seasonal Moving Disorder." It turns out I am not the only one who LOVES New York City--never-wants-to-move-you'll-have-to-drag-me-out-of-here-kicking-and-screaming--while simultaneously possessing strong urges (once a year, in the spring) to buy a farmhouse in rural Vermont and make my own bread/clothes/butter. This, despite the fact that I can't cook/sew/churn. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that, while we (M. + dog + me) live in under 500 square feet, with closets often bursting out of their wooden frames, and oh a microwave that rests on top of our refrigerator where I often have to climb on the kitchen counter to use it, like "Seasonal Affective Disorder," all it will take is the uplift of walking home through Central Park in the sunshine with a stop at Laduree along the way, or the fact that in my classroom, there are 20 different languages spoken by my students, to remind me that I probably wouldn't really like waking up early to feed chickens...