I’d meant to post on Friday, with this post as my Eye Candy. But life ran away from me, and I haven’t had a chance to sit or think or even really breathe since Thursday. Here’s why.
On Friday, I bade farewell to my job of the last 7 years. I’ll be moving from this:
A small office on a quiet historic Philly street, to THIS:
A ginormous glass-and-steel beauty in New York City. I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m moving to New York!
Needless to say, I’ve been going through a whole lot of inner turmoil. I love Philly, I love my apartment, I love my boyfriend, and I used to love my job. A new job popped up, it was perfect for me (the job description was like reading a personality profile), so on an impulse, I applied. I had interviews. And within three weeks they had offered it–and I had accepted. That was two weeks ago. Friday, when I’d meant to post about this, was my last day at work, and I was both busy and emotionally torn up. This weekend I visited my parents for some “corporate casual” clothing shopping. I am now in the throes of the NY apartment search–overwhelming, to say the least.
Knitting has been happening–I’m nearly done with the Pomatomi–and I do see myself using it as a calming technique in the next few weeks, as I search for the apartment, find one (hopefully!), pack up my life, divvy everything up with the boy, move, and start a new job. Those of you knitting New Yorkers, please tell me that I will find something I can afford, that I will love New York, and that I’ll have plenty of knitters to meet! I’m both totally excited to be moving and completley, gut-wrenchingly terrified.