Two months out

I’m beginning to think that there’s a certain point, after any major life switch, when your old life starts to look pretty damn good. For me, it seems to happen after two months into a new endeavor. I remember freshman year of college, around mid-November, when I started recalling details about high school that I missed so much — the exact taste of the cheese pizza that we ordered on late nights at the high school paper, the feeling of the cinder block wall against my back as I proofread on a dying Mac, the sound of my dog’s feet on the stairs when I came home.

Something similar, though perhaps less intense, is happening now about life in D.C. I have conveniently crystallized my memories into a distinct package, fuzzy around the edges, full of only the good stuff: The metallic taste of the office-brewed coffee, loaded with real sugar and fake creamer; the smell of the inside of the company car — a little like sour milk; the smooth, cool surface of my desktop,where I would lay my head after a stressful moment… Ok, so those things don’t sound as great in the abstract as they feel in my head. But I swear. I guess it’s simply that those things are familiar, and right now, things are most definitely new.

It’s the time between the super-fun-wow-I’m-here and the feeling-settled-and-comfortable. That’s what this is.

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