Today the postal service finally forwarded me our last Portland water bill, which came in at $1,034 for our final three months at House of Yes. We lived with a bunch of dirty punk rockers who collectively showered about twice a week, where we rarely ever watered the sad-faced sunflowers that Eliot (beautifully, optimistically) planted. We conserved as much as we could to an obnoxious extent, like the guilty privileged white liberals we should be and still got slammed for our most basic living expenses.
In Vancouver our water bill will still be high at $50 a month, saving us over $3000 a year.
We no longer have to pay state income tax.
Our monthly rent is $545 cheaper for a much, MUCH better space. This is the nicest house I've lived in since my childhood and that was the house my father built for us by inventing the fucking HARD DRIVE.
My kids AND my car have their own bedrooms right now because I'm good at waxing vaginas.
And NONE of these are the reasons I decided to move here.
I'm four minutes from Dave. I'm five minutes from school. Only 20 from work.
I finally sat down and mapped out all my time/mileage plot points. I'm saving FIVE AND A HALF HOURS a week living here, which means I've officially given up the WORST 5.5 hours of my regular life.
Can you IMAGINE that? Just shitting the worst part of your life down the toilet and not being penalized for it, only rewarded with lots of saved money and happier children.
I feel oddly numb about it. This is the usual season of my discontent, but all I want to do is roll meatballs between my fingers and fantasize about all the Christmas lights I'm never gonna hang.
This evolution is a THING. I hope/need/plan to write about it in a way that doesn't alienate the people I most want to hear and feel it.
So my work is yet... ...