If You’re Going To Move, Be Out Of Town

I have moved three times since I got married, although if you ask my wife she will tell you that I have not moved at all.  And technically, both things are true.  This weekend I am moving again.  And I am also not moving again.  But this time I sort of am!  Sort of.

When Simone and I got married we lived in an apartment in Silver Spring, MD.  It was nice enough, but eventually we needed a change and so we moved to Baltimore.  The funny thing is (or not funny if you ask my wife), I sprained my wrist right before we moved, and so was unable to lift any boxes.  Luckily we had a lot of great friends who helped us, and thanks to Simone’s ingenious box labeling system and my expert watching abilities the move went very well.

We stayed in Baltimore for 5 years, but we always kind of knew that we wanted to move back to Vermont, and so eventually we took the plunge and just did it.  We moved.  Wait, did I say “we” moved?  I mean, I guess we did.  I wasn’t there for most of it.  I was in New York, singing with New York City Opera, as long-time readers may recall.  While I was gone singing, my wife single-handedly (with help from my family and hers) moved the family and all of our stuff from Maryland to a small apartment over her sister’s garage in South Hero, VT.

We knew that this was only temporary.  Simone was looking for a job, and once she found one in Richmond, VT, we knew that we wanted to find a place to live somewhere in that town.  Well, we did.  We found a place, and move-in day happened to be, well, during my first contract with St. Petersburg Opera in Florida.  Now, to be fair, I did get home in time to help with that move.  We were able to delay it until I got back.  But to also be fair, most of the horribleness of moving is really the packing and organizing and prepping for the move, and I was gone for that whole process.

So that brings us to this week.  Today, as I sit and write this in New York, fulfilling my contract with the Metropolitan Opera, Simone is picking up the keys to our new place in Burlington.  You see, she got a new job there, and suddenly living in Richmond is very inconvenient.  Her 5 minute commute turned into a 45 minute commute, and so we are picking up and moving again.  Wait, did I say “we” were moving?

If any of my Catholic readers would like to nominate my wife for sainthood, I think now would be a good time.