"I'm getting too old for this sh*t".

Det. Roger Murtaugh, as played by Danny Glover

That’s the Murtaugh Rule. There comes a point in life where things that were common or routine when you were young, well, you’re just too old for anymore. And for me, moving is one of them.

It is not as if I loved St. Louis so much. There was a small slice of that place, especially University City and Webster Groves and South City, that I did really love. Tiny archipelagos of community in a sea of parochial tribalism. I miss Winslow’s Home, and convenient Frozen Custard options; I miss my friends and coworkers, but mostly I miss the comfort of it being a place where there were roots. It felt like there was traction.

For someone like me, so comfortable feeling a part from rather than a part of, that traction was no small thing.

And I really like Alexandria, so far, from what I’ve seen. The phrase “quality of life” springs to mind, because every day we see people from all walks of life, and every corner of the planet and culture living more or less harmoniously here. There’s good schools, libraries and neighborhoods, and it’s pretty easy to get around. There’s even a reform synagogue across the street that I like and will start to attend. I don’t even really want to mess with the hassle of going in to DC proper.

Of course though, being new anywhere has its’ downsides. As my brother in law says “The first year in a new place just sucks”. And even with my loins girded for the reality of it just sucking, the reality is nonetheless, hard to endure.

There are loose ends to tie up. There’s an acute cash flow issue. There’s people wanting to be new friends when you couldn’t care less about new friends, and there’s the crushing loneliness of missing your old friends. There’s the different sounds and lights at night keeping you up, and there’s your toddler becoming a vector for disease (the day care flu is a real thing, folks - Everyone woke up with a tickle in the back of their throats this morning). There’s finding a nearby bank, because your old bank doesn’t have branches out here. There’s trips to target and the store and to UPS. There’s trying to find an adequate gym and get back into a daily routine and dealing with stupifying bureaucracy, which you know is for the collective good but is still a pain in your unique ass.

It’s terrible, no good, very bad, horrible to move. But it’s that way for everyone. Even in Austrailia.

Worse still, I know that even after this year of suckitude, there’s only a year and a half before we move again.

Now, I am not going to the glue factory anytime soon, but that idea - of moving cross country again, and possibly again and again, well that sucks too. And I feel like I’m getting too old to deal with it. Not that I physically can’t deal with it, just that I shouldn’t have to.

What I know is that I have to go at my own, steady pace toward being ok here. If I can find the space, my space here, everything will be alright. But it won’t be today and it won’t be tomorrow.

I’ll get there. That I know. Just wondering if when I do, it’s time to pack again.