I have never lived outside of New England. Actually, I've never lived anywhere but Massachusetts. This June I moved to Manhattan, for a boy, of course, who convinced me that this will be a much needed positive change in my life. Only time will tell if he's right. The apartment search ended with the first place who would accept our menagerie of dogs and cats, and has since turned out to be a cozy retreat right next to a serene park. Looking for employment, however, has not turned out as well. After submitting my resume almost 20 times in the last month, the panic is staring to set in. A phone interview here and there, but alas, nothing. Tomorrow I have my first interview with a real person, so we'll see how that goes. The pets have been adjusting well to city life, our dogs Dublin and Dill Pickle are obsessed with the smells and sounds of the city. Our cats (don't judge....) Tucker, Conan O'Brien, Atticus Finch and Morris, love to lounge in the windows and bird watch. The fourth floor walk up is proving to be good exercise for all of us, especially since now that I'm home during the day the dogs HAVE to go out at least 5 times more than they normally would. So thus begins the newest and scariest chapter in my life.
