In all my flurry of moving and taking pictures of 20-year-old pieces of spandex I forgot to mention that Brian was supposed to be here this weekend to celebrate my birthday with me, but he has bronchitis. He called me Thursday night to tell me that he felt sick, to which I responded, okay... let me know how you feel in the morning and if you would rather take the train than drive if you can still come down.

Friday morning I get an extremely croaky sounding phone call from him and it's clear that he shouldn't even leave his house, let alone come all the way down here.

Need I reference what the weather was like on Friday?

So, I was sad of course. I tried to console myself by reasoning that this weekend would have been stressful anyway, as I'm still unpacking, and exhausted from leaving work and the city. He's coming down the 15th instead, which gives me two weeks to unwind, settle in, and stop being a sourpuss from all the transition.

But today I went back into Brooklyn to have my birthday brunch with my dearest friends as sort of one last hurrah - it was such a great time and I felt so honored that everyone came out on a Sunday morning just for me!! - and I couldn't help but feel a little sad that he wasn't there with me and to meet all my friends. When is the next time they'll all be together at the same time??

So anyway I am all moved home now. Officially no more possessions in the city, no more ties (save the emotional ones)... no more keys. I'm doing all right here by myself... but it would be nice to have him here as well.