Best weekend in weeks.

I haven't been upstate in months. Since before Christmas. If you don't live in New York City, you might not be able to fully understand the obsessive, addictive relationship that New Yorkers form with their country houses. Not going upstate for weeks is a little like going scuba diving with a faulty air tank. Initially you're okay, but after 30 seconds, you start thinking, "Hey. I'm probably going to need some air." And around a minute, you're like, "This is going to get hairy. I definitely need some air." And then your panicking and you manage to get the valve to work, and you're like,
"OOOOOXXXXXYYYY_-GGGGGGEEEENNNN."

To be clear, I've never been scuba diving. This may not be what it's like in reality, but in my imagination, swimming without oxygen and going for long stretches of time in New York City without a break are kind of the same. There's something about the unrelenting hustle of New York, or maybe it's just our lives in New York, but it's just back-to-back-to-back-to-back. There's almost no stopping. So when we get upstate, it feels like I'm reactivating some part of my brain. The part that wants to stay in pajamas for a prolonged amount of time. The part that wants to read the news on my computer, drink gallons of coffee, and go on a walk nowhere (aka. the mailbox) with Jules and the dog.

OMG. That's basically my idea of a perfect weekend.

And now here I am. After weeks and weeks of working through the weekends, of spending every free second looking at apartments, of doing school tours, of meeting with lawyers, and of working, working, working-- we decided to leap at an unexpected 36 free hours and drive upstate.

And I'm like, "OOOOOXXXXXYYYY_-GGGGGGEEEENNNN."

It's so good. I am so zen. God only knows what I'm going to find when I get back to Brooklyn, but right now, I'm just going to bask in the next 8 hours of calm. And take a walk to nowhere with my dog and my kid.