I’m leaving New York.

It is amazing how quickly I can type those four words, say them, think them.  But the act of leaving won’t be as swift. And that’s exactly what I’m hoping for. For the past six years, I’ve rushed everywhere – to work, to dinner, to a yoga class, to catch a train.  “Rush” hours. And hours and hours.

So, I’ve got six weeks to go.  It’s the perfect amount of time.  Any less and my departure would be like ripping off a bandaid which has stuck to my skin for the better part of a decade.  Any more, and I might akin my move to a painstaking disembowelment.  Well, it might not be THAT bad. Read more…