Gratitude Monday: A year of New

The past month has been pretty stressful for me, what with starting a new job, closing out my life in the Valley They Call Silicon and moving across country. I confess that by the time I got on the plane to Washington last Wednesday, I was as sharp as a meatball, and it hasn’t got any better since then.

I can remember only once in my life where I felt as attenuated and completely stupid, and being unable to process what was happening around me whether it was a waitress wanting my breakfast order or dealing with a contractor who screws up. And that was not at all a good time.

So today, the first Gratitude Monday of the year, I am thankful that I somehow managed to get to my hotel those first couple of nights—and that it was a very good experience (as opposed to Dollar Rent A Car at Dulles, a company I’m never going to use again, even though the branch at National Airport was fine).

And that friends shared their New Year’s Eve with me, Chinese food and board games—exactly what I needed.

(I hope they’ll let me try Scrabble again, despite my abysmal performance.)

And that my first breakfast of the year was shared with one of my oldest friends, echoing a couple of hundred breakfasts we’ve had over the years. I have that tradition to look forward to again, thank God.

And that I found my new digs on Capitol Hill, and—even better (well, you know what I mean)—I found a parking spot, so I could unload my kit. And that I remembered the instructions on how to use the keypad to get into the place.

And that it’s exactly what I need for right now—cozy, comfortable and close to work.

And that, before I turned in my rental, I made a run to Wegmans and Trader Joe’s to stock up on provisions, since I’ll be without a car for probably two weeks. It’s a bit strange doing the grocery shopping for all the basics, when you haven’t had to do that in more than five years. I forgot the plain yoghurt and French onion soup at TJs, but I expect I’ll manage.

And that yesterday when I used my Metro card to visit Arlington National Cemetery, I realized (as I did once when sitting in Shakespeare’s garden in Stratford-upon-Avon), I’m not a tourist; I live here. And that, dear readers, was huge.

So here I am, a (temporary) resident of the District They Call Columbia, starting out the new year with a new job and a lot of new possibilities. I may not be the brightest bulb on the tree, and I do have to find a physical therapist/chiropractor pretty damned quick. But I am truly grateful for having made it across the abyss to all the new-and-possibles.