Charlie's "100 Things Posts About Me"
#97. My parents have had as many homes since I left for college as I've had.
I'm not sure whether this is a sign of their increasing instability, or whether I'm just a better 'nester' than they. Or maybe just the luck of the draw. Anyway, for the record, here's the comparison:
They started in the house where I grew up, then moved to a small city in southern Virginia. From there, they moved to an even smaller town in central Ohio, and then back to the city where we originally lived, into a different house. From there, they moved into an apartment a few blocks away, which is where they are today. (Well, okay, fine, today, they might be at the store, or on vacation, or something. Technically, I don't know where the hell they are
today. But their mail gets delivered to the apartment. And that's good enough for me.)
So, in those same thirteen years or so, I've lived at college, then in my first apartment in Pittsburgh, then in another (nicer) apartment with my wife in Pittsburgh, then in our apartment here in Boston, and finally here, in our cool house just outside the city.
So that's five to five. To be fair, the first two moves my parents made were because of my dad's work. (Though why the hell they ended up back in my boyhood hometown is a mystery to me. They were out! They'd escaped. Why the hell would they throw themselves
back on the fire?) And, I suppose if you're going to nit-pick -- and you
know you are, you weasel -- you could mention that I had three different dorm rooms while at college, and also lived for a month in a Boston condo because I moved here before my wife. You could say those things. But then I'd just tell you that they don't count, and stop interrupting my damned blog post, chucklebutt. I'd probably call you a weasel again. So
don't, understand? Just
don't. You've done
quite enough already. Harrumph.
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