It’s been awhile since I’ve posted; as ‘they’ say, “life gets in the way sometimes”.
We finally sold the house that we spent an eternity (and an ungodly fortune) remodeling but it hasn’t really set in yet. While we look for a new house (oh God.), we’re renting a temporary space in a gorgeous area called Bayou St. John.
Last week, I had two hours to find somewhere for us to move to before the movers got there. As my mom has
not subtly informed me several times since this happened, most people do this in advance. And that most people probably don’t live in an insane housing market quite like New Orleans. Hindsight blahblahblah.
But the most exciting part of all this is I finally had the opportunity to open the champagne that I have been dragging around the southern part of the country for the better part of three years. [side note: I’ve actually found none of this is very exciting, it’s more like a big incredible stress inducing money pit. I honestly might as well take my checking and savings out of the bank, head-on into the backyard (that doesn’t exist because I live in New Orleans, which is just a weirder, smaller New York space-wise) and light it all on fire]
So in any case, here is my new stoop. And my traveling champagne. Which, not surprisingly, tasted funky. Apparently hot/cold/hot/cold/hot/cold/hot/cold over the course of three years is not good for the quality of your bubbles.
So you live, you learn and so on. Except I seem to have trouble with the learning part so I just keep living and repeating the same shit.
But at least I’m finally in New Orleans. On my stoop.