My Bathrooms Are Clean

That's right, the bathrooms are sparkling clean. As is my kitchen. And my dryer. My house went on the market today. This marks a very tangible step in the getting-the-rock-out-of-Utah process. I have unloaded immense amounts of crapola from my little apartment. Note to self: stop accumulating crap; it's crap. It's really amazing how much stuff we allow ourselves to accumulate out of the fear that we won't have that one scrap of paper or nick-knack when we need it most ten years from now. I already miss my boxes of receipts. The IRS will surely audit me this year. Oh, and when I have a burning desire for a delicious but healthy hamburger, I'm going to be kicking myself that I just gave away my Geoge Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Machine.

Other tangible progress in the major life transition is that I have officially informed my current employer of my intentions. I was a bit surprised that the boss-man did not even blink when I presented him with this information. Seeing how he's also a reluctant Utahan, a former Buckeye, and a past resident of New York, I guess it makes some sense that his reaction was "Cool." He asked my where I was going to live in New York. I realized after the fact that I told him the wrong thing. Where I said "I don't know yet", I should have said "it's none of your fucking business". Stupid. Not that I wanted to be rude, I like the boss-man after all, but I really need to get in New York mode. I wonder if Utah has made me too milquetoast to survive in New York?

If you happen to be looking for an affordable, luxury (see photo) apartment in the downtown Salt Lake City area, please call my real estate agent.

Bags of Rags

What you see here is five (5) bags of clothes and linens. These bags are full to the brim. I know what you are thinking: "wow, Pete, why did you put your whole wardrobe into garbage bags?" Ah, but you see, that is not my whole wardrobe. These five bags account for the subset of my clothing collection that I donated to Crossroads today.

In addition to this load of stuff, I also donated one full carload of miscellaneous foo to the DI. This included my squeaky Huffy, the basketball that won't deflate, and the old Christmas tree stand that hasn't been used since '01 when I went Grinch due to the ornament theft fiasco. By the way, in case you are ever thinking about donating anything to the DI, expect to have a full-on zombie help unload your donated items. Apparently the LDS church uses the DI as an employment center for people with small enough intellect that they (a) belong to the church and (b) cannot form words. Then again, maybe these people only speak in tongues.

Anyway the purge is pretty much complete now. I like the idea of not owning a lot of things. Unfortunately, I only have less things, not no things. I'm not quite ready to go completely vagabond.

So much to do

Since I've told both of my potential readers this information personally, I am now going to spell it out for the rest of you: I have decided to pick up shop and move to New York City. My friend E. has already posted a foreboding beware of new york piece about my apparently ill-conceived plans.

At the risk of repeating what I have now told about thirty friends, I will delve into the details of this one hundred eighty degree life turn.

I have been in Utah for over five years now. My first year in Utah was quite notable. Let's go straight to the list:

• Box containing family heirloom Christmas ornaments stolen from my doorstep.
• Credit card number stolen plus subsequent fraudulent use of said number.
• The division of the company I moved here to work for was decimated.
• Two further sets of layoffs at work sent twelve months worth of friends packing.
• Carjacked at gunpoint.
• Subsequent insurance squabble caused temporary, but ugly rift in relationship with stepdad.
• Failed relationship with girl who never considered herself in a relationship with me.

One might say that from the beginning, there were some difficulties that may have affected my attitude towards Utah. But for five plus years I have stuck with it. When I chose to move to Utah, not in my wildest dreams did I imagine being here for over five years. I thought it would be a two years and out kind of situation. And the only reason I thought I would stay that long was to break even on the condo I bought!

So five years later, I have made friends. I have learned to drink socially. I play frisbee; competitively even. I am working for company number two. I have a cat. I have bought furniture. I have traveled around the mountain west. The thing about it is that I have, by many measures, succeeded. BUT, I'm still single. I'm still young. And I still do not consider myself a Utahan. So I have realized that if I do not leave Utah, I will always be here.

The thought process leading to this decision has been greased substantially by the continuing antics at fly-by-night co. I have become open to other possibilities. My recent trip to New York provided me with an excellent alternative to Salt Lake City. It was a place that clicked with me. I have not yet put my finger on the one thing that makes New York click. I believe there is one thing though. According to E., it might be the 3.2 to 1 F/M ratio. That may be it. Don't know. More on that later, I suppose. The point is that I found a reasonable alternative to Salt Lake City.

I turned down two jobs yesterday. I did this without hesitation and without regret. I did not like having to let my friend C. down because I was the guy he needed, but nonetheless, it was clearly the right thing to do. From a personal economic perspective, totally bogus. From a "wow I really do want to get the fuck out of here" perspective though, oh yeah, it was good.

What lies in front of me right now is a list of tasks that just keeps getting longer. I have about seven thousand one-hour tasks to take care of before I get on my way to NYC. My goal is to be out of Salt Lake by the end of October. I should be reading the real estate contract I have to sign or thinning out my wardrobe, but instead I'm writing this. I know what you are thinking: if he's so gung-ho about moving, why is he wasting his time blogging about it? To preserve my sanity, of course. Today I got an inkling such that I now understand what an anxiety attack is. I think I'm going to be able to manage all the excitement, but there was a moment today where I got a taste of crushing, overwhelming stress. At the time, I was looking into options for transporting Mr Orange to Ohio.

Okay, back to the grind for me. No rest for the wicked (or something like that).