Ep. 22: Coming home to dog shit and chicken bones

It's good to come home to dog shit and chicken bones...

Monday, April 15, 2013

(This week the Peekskill Commuter broadcasts from New York City.)

"It's good to be home again," Chelsea told me as were unpacking.

We're back at the apartment all week, while Toscano redoes the floors on the house.

Although I didn't immediately feel the same, because I was simply tired from moving all our baggage, eventually I felt a tinge of the homecoming euphoria my wife was feeling.

As she explained, "Quite often you move and that's it, you never get to revisit the place you made your home for so long, ever again."

After brunch with friends, a long walk the full length of Central Park on a beautiful and crisp spring day, take-out from Awash, one of our favorite local Ethiopian restaurants, and the chance to relax in bed with a pay-per-view movie, I was feeling a bit of the same appreciative déjà vu.

In addition to all the old amenities of living in Manhattan, I was simply happy not to have my weekend usurped by the need to move furniture all day and night.

By morning, however, that loving feeling began to dissipate.

At 7 AM the sound of sirens and car horns had pierced across the serene courtyard outside our window.

And at 8, I was back to navigating the dog shit and chicken bones strewn about the streets of Spanish Harlem, as I made my way to the subway to work.

Nonetheless and allthemore, it was nice to have a little extra time to sleep this morning. It was the first time in a month that I've awaken fairly well rested and not congested from all the residual cat dander that we hope all the carpet removal will help us expunge this week.

So, yes, ultimately I have to agree. It's good to be home again.