Friday, February 15, 2013
After forty-nine combined years in Hyde Park, ten together in love, and four in this our first home, Alex and I have decided to take the plunge and put down some roots. In Hyde Park. Where we grew up and where we currently reside. And I guess where we plan to live forever and die. While it is neither rushed nor drastic, the decision still seems wild. In a “Are we really this grown up?” kind of way.
We found a place a few blocks from the lake. It is on the other side of the literal train tracks from where we are now, but on the right side of the figurative train tracks that border Hyde Park and the rest of the South Side. In other words: we are shocked to have found the amount of space we want (three bedrooms, two baths) inside the price range we want, inside Hyde Park’s boundaries. As such, we are leaving the residential and grocery store center of the neighborhood and we’re moving on up, to the east side.
The whole process feels very Risky. And I mean that as in “like the game, ‘Risk.’” It feels like I’m using my turn to expand my African empire through South America, but I’ve run into some unexpected resistance in Argentina (read: closings costs), and my opponent has managed to whittle down my force on lucky rolls with one man standing. Even though I’m confident I’ll make it to Venezuela in full possession of the new continent, I am in fear of what will happen after my turn: I won’t have a large enough border force to defend my new territory, and my thinned army has left my originally impenetrable African landscape vulnerable to attack.
And so it is that two thoughts keep me going: the limb is where the fruit is and the tonic is where the gin is.