It took a few hours for the post-Match Day margarita to wear off, and when it did the initial excitement of moving to Minnesota wore off right with it. Suddenly, we were moving across the country but it was Friday at 8 pm and there was no realtor or leasing agent or mortgage broker or bank or moving company available to help us move forward. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? Well, frustrating for Y, the grown up of our relationship. My self-appointed Match Day duty was the somewhat less important stuff: to start making a list of restaurants to try, and sign up for Groupon, LivingSocial and all of the other eight billion daily deals in our new city. The internet doesn’t just work 9 to 5, THANK GOD.
But honestly, I didn’t realize how much I would have to do so quickly — and how much I’d need to learn to move across the country. What is the Frozen Four? How do you grow things in a climate where lakes are sometimes SOLID? What is it that I’m supposed to be saying when I say “y’all”? How do you buy a house?
It’s been pretty crazy over here. But I still plan to take you guys along for the ride – I just needed a quick break to drink my margarita, take some pictures in Barnes and Noble, and buy a house. Mission accomplished. See you in April?
Here’s a little video about Match Day:
Remember that Disney World commercial where the most adorable children you’ve ever seen squirmed in their bed the night before their vacation and squealed about how they were too excited to sleep?
Let’s talk about great ideas. Eli Whitney had one. Kristy Thomas had one. Benjamin Franklin had several.
We did not have one.
When we moved in over 3 and a half years ago, we set up two desks in our office. Since we were both students, we knew we’d be spending a lot of time at our desks. Naturally, we put them back to back.
For three and a half years, we spent hours sitting back to back. I had a lovely view of my wall, while Y had a lovely view of my face and whatever medical condition he was currently studying.
And then one day, Y made me a card that changed everything.
And that’s when I had my idea- my idea that could rival the cotton gin, bifocals, or the Baby-Sitters’ Club. If I had thought of it, oh, four years ago.
“We should push our desks together.”
“But we only have a few more months here.”
I’m convincing, and we did it anyway. It’s amazing. We realized we had wasted 3 and a half years not looking at each other, not having Ike underneath us licking both of our feet at the same time, and not watching porn because we were worried the other one could see it.
Y was playing a computer game when I started taking pictures, and I demanded he turn it off. Because that’s the kind of wife I am. This is the kind of husband he is:
(This winter, Y traveled around the country interviewing for a residency position. I’ve been writing about his travels. For more notes from the interview trail, click here.)
Today was the day we found out whether Y matched. Not where he matched, just whether or not he actually has a spot somewhere.
I’ve been waiting for this day for months.
Not because I was worried about Y matching. I knew he would.(He did.)
I’ve been waiting for this day because Y told me that as soon as he found out he had a place somewhere, I could tell you this story:
It was a rainy, almost snowy, day in December and Y was at an interview in Pennsylvania. Not just any interview – an interview at one of the most prestigious programs in the country. It was just after this infamous night (to recap: flight delayed 4 hours; arrives at hotel at midnight to find he has no bed), and despite the less than optimal sleep he was on his game. Ready to impress.
The doctor conducting the interview looked down at his file. “You’re from Louisiana, I see. Where else have you interviewed?” Y ticked off the list he had gotten so used to reciting.
The doctor nodded. “What made you interview at places so far from home?”
Y was relieved. He liked it when the questions were about his desire to experience something different from the South. He enjoyed sharing his love of travel. He had his answer fully prepared, but played it cool.
“I just, you know. I just wanted to spread my legs.”
Shit, he thought, I played it too cool.
And that’s why I don’t think we’ll be moving to Philadelphia.
After Sears, we’ll visit Dillard’s, the only other department store. We’ll make our way through the maze of church hats and trashy prom dresses until we find one we want to try. Just wait until you see the dressing rooms, reader. The decor is lovely as it is, but the folks at Dillard’s know the secret to a perfect finishing touch: a decorative bowl of shells.
It might be hard to imagine anything can top all of this. But the grand finale can’t be missed. If you plan to stay the night and want me to take you out to the local line dancing club, you’ll need something new. Something…groovee.
Can you see why I’ll miss this mall? My wallet sure can. The mall parking lot is so chronically empty that part of it is used as a street — a street that I take to work every morning. Let me clarify: I drive through a mall parking lot twice a day, five days a week, and not once have I been tempted to stop and go inside.
Ask my dad, who funded my shopping habits in high school – this is quite unlike me.