The condo is sold. In less than one month, the family will no longer call New England home and Charlotte will not remember living in Massachusetts.
I’ll be driving around with a New York license plate. At least the new gold plates are better looking than the old blue and white ones.
I won’t be able to watch regular season Bruins games on t.v. It will be all Mets/Yankees/Rangers.
The area where we’ll be living has no discernable accent. Small miracle.
No matter what “they” say about Massachusetts as “Taxachusetts,” New York dominates the Bay State on taxes. It happens when you spend more than you confiscate.
99% of our belongings will go into storage and I’ll bet you I’ll won’t miss a thing. Funny how that is.
I want to go to O’Connor’s one last time. I’m sure to find a favorite new watering hole.
I’ll miss Papou’s veggie pizza. There’s time to discover a great pizza pie in Saratoga County.
No more perambulations in St. Cecilia’s cemetery. How many miles of road in Washington County will do the trick?
I’m dealing with losses and, as yet, undiscovered gains. That’s how life is.