Where the heart is

And so ends another summer in DC.

This morning I had  every intention if writing a love letter to The District, but then I walked outside and saw that someone keyed our car. Now I'm feeling a little less sunshine in  my soul and a little more YARGGGHHHH about city life. So let's talk straight. This place is kind of a pain in the butt. Every other street is one way. Tuesdays smell like garbage. Grocery store aisles are half the size they should be. Cockroaches thrive in drain pipes. The air is sticky and heavy. Our neighbors set off fireworks in dumpsters. Pedestrians treat traffic lights as loose, rarely followed guidelines. Parking either costs half a pay check or requires parallel parking skills that far surpass my ability. There's a sign in our alley way reminding residents that it is illegal to use or sell drugs, the implication being that using or selling drugs happened often enough to require a written reminder not to.

But. I already miss it. Because while I have a list of one million things that bug me about DC (900,000 of them being actual bugs), I also have a list of one million things that I adore. Like Eastern Market on Saturday mornings. And afternoon walks to the Capitol. And Shake Shack. And the playground at Lincoln Park. And the other playground at Turtle Park. And the monuments at night. And the yachts on the Potomac. And our ward. And the goats at the cemetery. And free admission at the zoo. And the young professionals wearing business suits with tennis shoes. And the people who love their dogs like children. And the cheese selection at the grocery store. And old friends and new friends and people I wish I was friends with. Etc.

We don't know where will be in a year when Stephen will be a JD, bar-certified (fingers crossed), attorney. There's a world of possibility and endless locations. But if a job brings us here to The District of Columbia, I'll be okay with it. Nay, I'll be stoked.

Love you. See you soon?