Catching My Breath

In the last three weeks, I have been to Boston twice – first apartment-hunting, then moving. Sam is now in a cute apartment close to work and close to the subway. The entire affair was not without its dramas — Boston is a crazy, competitive, expensive real estate market; the apartment turned out to not be immediately habitable on move-in day; and there were a couple moments when I secretly had my doubts the whole thing would gel.

Driving from Boston back to Ohio last Wednesday I knew that, as tired as I was, I needed to get right back into my routines. Back to the gym. Back to eating right. This weekend included naps and walks and a trip to the library. I feel ready to face a full five-day work week. Actually, I’m looking forward to the routine of it all.

I’ve gone beyond my “23 for 2023” goal of reading 23 novels. I listened to two books on the long Ohio to New England drive and back, and for some reason they were both post-apocalyptic. The first, “The Girl With All the Gifts” by M.R. Carey was of the zombie apocalypse variety. I enjoyed it until I didn’t enjoy it anymore — I feel like it went on too long, and I really am not into zombie stories. It had a nice twist on the theme, I thought, but then it devolved to really just another running-from-zombies story. The book I listened to on the way home was “Station Eleven” by Emily St. John Mandel, which was of the pandemic apocalypse variety. I enjoyed it much more than “The Girl With All the Gifts.” It was surprising, really. From the title, I was expecting something completely different from what it turned out to be, which was a very character-driven story about how our lives touch the lives of others. I highly recommend it.

I still feel like I am recovering from all of the moving rigamarole. It was a lot. A whole lot. This post is just to let you know I’m still here (wasn’t that the purpose of my previous blog post?) Life has just been full-on. I’ll be back soon, I promise.

Love,

Michelle xoxo