In full crisis mode, I set off for two weeks upstate to figure out if I could ever live there full time. I got in on Thursday to 73-degree weather with sunny skies and little to no humidity. I didn't have to worry about touching dirty subway poles or being harassed by panhandlers who were pregnant/AIDS victims/down on their luck/unemployed/raising money for their basketball team/just trying to make a living. I went to Walmart, where everything was at least $2 less than in the city. My parents made me all my favorite foods. In short, I was in heaven.
Then I got bored.
I decided to meet an old high school friend at a bar. This means that I drove the family minivan to a bar that was a mile away. While at the bar (which contained about 30 people...on a Saturday night), I nursed a beer for almost two hours so that I would be completely sober for the mile drive home. On the drive, I worried about A) driving, which I hadn't done since Easter; and B) my blood alcohol level, which should not have been a concern. What I should have been concerned about, however, was the giant possum that crossed the street as I was turning into my driveway and is currently hiding in the bushes by the front porch.
Somehow, drunk taxi rides and well-behaved sewer rats seem like a much more pleasant option.
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