So you’ve decided to move to Florida and perhaps you should explain yourself

29 Feb

I was giving a lot of thought to our next move. Our lease is up in April, and it was a choice between finding a different apartment in Chicago; moving back to our home state, Michigan; or being semi-ridiculous and moving the whole kit and caboodle to Florida. I made lists and weighed pros and cons until the cows came home. (And by that, I of course mean until I lost my ever-loving mind.) I was riddled with anxiety and guilt about a whole bunch of aspects of the decision. What would my family say about me moving even further away? What if something happened? I’ve always loved winter and the seasons. What if I hated it? I’ve done some pretty extensive credentialing for my profession in my state. What if it doesn’t transfer? What if I have to take more classes?

I was about two seconds from turning tail and running to Michigan. Husband would have done it, too. Reluctantly and begrudgingly, but still. Until I realized that while I had a laundry list of excuses, none of them were really good enough to stop the move. I mean, what if I hate it? So what. I hate a lot of things. We’ll move again. What about my family? Well, I get home to visit as it is about twice a year, even being six hours away. It’s pretty likely we will be able to keep up with that from Florida. Further, exactly zero people visit me on a regular basis, so if I’m farther away it’s really more of a burden on me than anything. And what if something happens? If somethings going to happen, it will happen, whether I’m seventeen hours or seven hours or seven minutes away. And as far as work, so what if I have to take a class or two. I’m a nerd. I love school. Also, my current job is letting me transfer. There’s about zero other places I could go where I would already have a job.

So, with staying in Chitown requiring me to sell a kidney to pay rent, and moving to Michigan being more of an end-of-the-road type deal, it was almost a no-brainer to spend some time in the sunshine. Husband is crazy excited, and I had to actually stop him from buying a Disney pass before we even got there. I can be excited when I don’t allow myself to be overwhelmed by the logistics of it, which is maybe about ten minutes a day. It’s not a permanent thing, but more a happy, working, extended vacation. (At least that’s sort of my intent. If I hate it, then it’s a pretty shitty vacation.) We’ll reassess in a year or two and then make a more permanent decision. Until then, I’m just going to buy a lot of tank tops and hope for the best.


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