To My TGIFriday's Suspenders: RIP

Gah. So… tired… longest… weekend… ever…

But it’s DONE. It’s finally over. We’re in. Everything is moved in from both apartments (I’ve got GUNS), every last piece of furniture arranged, every last item of clothing hung (which took as long as it did to watch the entire third season of Arrested Development… yeah, I might have too many clothes). The only thing I have left to organize is… yes, you nailed it (that’s what she said)… my shoes. Ah well, that should only take a few hours days. No biggie.

Bottom line, the place is gorgeous. And it’s ours.

Life is already so much better. I can breathe easier. I’m comfortable in our home. My kitchen is breathtaking, and it yearns to be used. Everything is organized, everything is simple- and it feels good. It feels right.

This change has (inevitably) led me to think about my life as a whole. What other things can I streamline, or change to increase my happiness? The decision to move in together is indicative of the lifestyle I have come to crave over the past few (whirlwind) months.

I want to relax after work. I want to spend quality time with friends, and on any day of the week- not just Wednesday evenings, because I’m either working or too tired the rest of the week.

I want to cook. I want to exercise. I want to have the time and the mental (and physical) energy to focus on the things that will make me feel good about myself, that make me happy. There was a time, not so long ago, when this involved being able to catch a flight to LA at the last minute for a crazy weekend with my fabulous GBF (gay boyfriend, obvs), or going insane on Piperlime, just because I wanted to- because I could. I still want to travel, of course, but not like that anymore- escaping D.C. for a weekend because there’s nothing keeping me here. Because I actually have a lot here. A real lot. (Love your guts, all of you.)

I want to actually be done with my 9 hour day at 5:30, not starting a second one. I want to go home, and make dinner, and watch Grey’s or ANTM with my girls. I want to go to the occasional (cheap) happy hour, whenever my friends happen to be going. I don’t want to be on the other side of the bar anymore.

I want to be like everyone else.

I’ve been doing the restaurant thing for the better part of a decade now, and I wouldn’t trade a minute of it. I’ve learned more from those years than any schooling or other job could ever hope to teach me. But it’s time. From now on, the only drinks I’ll be slinging will be in the comfort of my own home (or at a good friend’s, if the mood strikes and they’re super lucky and/or buy me the shoes I’m coveting at the time and can no longer afford. Wink!).

While contemplating my impending resignation from the world of hospitality, I wondered aloud, “I wonder if I’ll ever be able sit in a bar or restaurant and just enjoy myself, without noticing every little detail about the place, the employees, the things that need to be done…”

My wise friend Restaurant Refugee smiled at me, a bit sadly, I believe, and assured me, “Oh honey… no, no you won’t. Not ever.”

I hope he’s right… because honestly, I don’t ever want to forget.