We're down to 31 days here, and I can taste DC. But there's still those damn 31 days to get through. And I'm basically stuck trying to figure out ways to distract myself from wanting to move s-o-o-o-o-o-o bad. Or maybe it's badly.
And it's difficult. Because nothing really distracts in the serious sense.
Sure, for a few minutes I can direct my attention to other places: Seinfeld, the New York Times, work, a trip to CVS.
But after those first minutes of distraction, I get caught up in the excitement of what those same distractions will be like once I live in DC.
Man, Seinfeld's good in Old Virginny, but Seinfeld will be totally amazing in DC. In DC, Seinfeld will be funnier. And there will be tons of episodes I haven't already seen four thousand times.
And in DC, who knows what time Seinfeld will come on? In DC, I might be able to watch Seinfeld at all sorts of times other than 6:30, 7:00, 7:30, 11:00 and 11:30. Man, I'd give anything to be able to catch that Man Hands episode at 9...or even 9:30.
Psych!
And in DC, you just know the New York Times will be better. In DC, I'll most certainly be able to finish the crossword puzzle.
Not that I'm not close to finishing now. Even in Virginia I'm able to get three or even four answers sometimes.
Yeah. DC's good.
And post-move work will be better for sure.
At a mere 3.54 mile commute, I do believe I'll be lunching with Boo frequently. I'll skip out of the office for a little tete-a-tete with the Monsieur Boo. Meet him at a sidewalk cafe...share a tuna sandwich. Maybe even a buffet.
Yeah. Boo loves to do lunch.
And CVS, well, that one's too obvious.
DC CVS...hands down.
But I'm thinking I should be engaging in some anticipatory grief over leaving Virginia.
I'm thinking I'll miss Virginia.
Won't I?
The problem is, I can't think of anything specific that I'll miss.
I won't miss the traffic. And I won't miss the commute. I definitely won't miss Route 7 or Route 50 or Route 29.
Nah. No route-missing here.
And I won't miss the fact that there's always a shopping mall within a few miles.
I won't miss the strings of fast food restaurants for blocks and blocks.
And I definitely won't miss the sound of lawn mowers.
For some reason, people take forever to mow their lawns out here in the burbs. There you are, trying to sleep in or nap or otherwise enjoy some Saturday silence, and the guy next door is getting it on with his power mower and trimming tools.
I assume he's getting it on. Because I cannot figure out any other reason he'd start so damn early, go so damn late and basically just take so damn long.
He's definitely getting some jollies out there.
And the guy across the street?
Forget it. He's out there every day doing something or other. To his lawn. With power tools that make a lot of noise.
It might generally be a guy thing, but I'm fairly certain that the DC guys will be more quiet. I'm fairly certain that the DC guys don't own tools that make noise. I'm fairly certain their tools are limited to zip drives and ego expanders.
At least I hope.
But I will miss the Virginia Giant lady.
If you live in the burbs, you know her. She's inside the automated self check out. She's the one who tells you how much your item costs and where to put it.
I mean where to put them.
I love her.
And she's not in the city, I don't think. I think the DC Giants are still the old ones...where you're incredibly lucky if there's the luxury of a fresh bread section.
No, the DC Giants definitely aren't automated yet. And automation is so cool.
Take tonight, for instance.
Tonight I stopped at the big, beautiful suburban Route 7 Giant on my way home. I didn't need anything that I could put my finger on, but I was starving. And part of me was craving turkey.
They say that you shouldn't go to the store when you're hungry, but that's the only time I go to the store.
If I didn't go when was hungry, I'd never go. First, I hate shopping. Second, I hate making stops on the way to or from any other destination. Third, I can never remember what foods I like unless I'm hungry and can imagine eating them immediately.
So hunger's my chauffeur. And there I was, tonight, driven to Giant.
And I wanted turkey for some very odd reason that I can only chalk up to hormonal nonsense.
Like maybe a turkey sandwich. A nice, dry, fat-free turkey sandwich.
So I'm thinking okay....turkey. And bread.
So I ventured over to the turkey aisle. And there, in the turkey aisle, were lots of yellow sale tags.
I assume it was because school's now in session. I assume Giant was cheapening all of the school lunch goodies for highest marketing kick.
And so it was that all sorts of lunch meats were on sale.
But the turkey wasn't the best deal.
With all due respect to my vegan readers, I won't list the numerous processed delicacies available at more than 50% off of the regular meaty price. Suffice it to say, I left the turkey aisle without turkey. But I didn't leave the turkey aisle without meat. At least I assume what I purchased is meat. Perhaps what I purchased doesn't technically derive from any of God's animals, but it was definitely characterized as a meat product. At least for marketing purposes.
And that was that.
I had a true bargain in my little green basket and I was on my way to see which brand of bagels were on sale.
Because once I'm in sale mode, I can't be stopped.
I bought plain frozen bagels. Because I love them, of course. And because they were the variety that was one-third off regular price.
And I bought a boatload of frozen tuna casseroles. Because I love them, of course. And because they were two for three dollars. Quite the steal in the land of frozen entrees. Especially low-fat frozen entrees.
And on and on.
What began as a search for sale items became a campaign to find the largest super-savings items.
I was on a roll.
Three speedy minutes later, I was at the checkout. The nice thing about hating to shop is how quickly you can finish. Kind of like cleaning the toilet. No unnecessary dawdling.
At the checkout, my Bonus Card was accepted.
The lady loudy proclaimed "Your Bonus Card has been accepted!"
Major WHEW!
I looked around proudly, hoping other shoppers knew that I had made it into the elite Bonus Card Club.
And then I scanned.
And I scanned fast.
I've gotten really good at the scanning rhthym. I can now scan faster than the lady reads the price. Plus, for me she needs to read the price AND the amount of money saved.
The Giant lady's got a lot of work to do with me. Everything I buy's generally on sale. I'm cheap and I'm fast. Just what Giant lady loves, I'm sure.
So by the time I finished my speed-scanning, Giant Lady still had a good eight items to announce.
I just stood there. And I didn't think about DC.
I just thought about how I'll miss the Giant lady. And how I'll miss the fantasies I always have while listening to her.
"Two dollars and thirty four cents."
"Savings, one dollar and seventeen cents."
"Four dollars and fifty nine cents."
"Savings, two dollars and twenty five cents."
Usually, after about three or four items and the constant droning of her nice Giant Lady voice, I begin to imagine what I think she's dying to say from within the big steel machine.
"Condoms, three dollars and fourteen cents. You could have purchased the Giant brand of condoms and experienced super savings with your Giant Savings Card. But really you shouldn't be purchasing condoms at all. Frankly, you look like you should probably spend a little more time going to church and a little less time strutting your stuff."
"Beer, five dollars and ten cents. Condoms, three dollars and fourteen cents. Anti-fungal cream, six dollars and thirty two cents. Giant hopes you'll be careful tonight. And may we suggest that you focus a little more on your education and a little less on your partying."
Double-stuff extra-chocolate fat plus creme. Four dollars and thirty cents. Supersize triple-whipped double-dunked extra-icing cake. Six dollars and fifteen cents. Quadruple cheese pizza with super extra double heavy cheese stuffed crust. DON'T BUY THIS! C'MON! LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO BILL CLINTON! GO GET SOME VEGGIES!
I'll miss the Virginia Giant Lady.
Because I know, deep down inside that cold steel checkout machine, she has lots of wisdom. And lots to say. And I respect her so very much for keeping her mouth shut as she watches people flush their health down the toilet.
Personally, I couldn't do it.
First they'd shut down my microphone. Then they'd fire my cold steel butt.
But then again, I won't have to even think about it in DC.