A snowman off 23rd St NW in the West End section of Washington, D.C., 12:47 p.m., January 31, 2021
Yes, we had a bit of snow this Sunday -- on the order of 1 to 3 inches across the region. Always the lowest, I think KDCA "officially" had about 1.4 inches, which brings the seasonal total to 1.7 inches.
KBWI picked up 2.3 inches and KIAD received 2.2 inches. To clarify, these amounts are through the 5 p.m. reports, but since then, it has turned into a snow drizzle / freezing rain drizzle that has now mostly ended across the area.
There might be more tomorrow as a coastal low develops -- and it may or may not get "captured" and lots of blather about negative tilted troughs and Rex blocks -- but by the time the system is gone, amounts in the D.C. area will be low. By contrast, the New York City area should get 6 to 12 inches and interior northern New Jersey could received as much as 20 to 24 inches.
The pictures of the snowy afternoon in this entry are ones I took this Sunday while walking to and from Georgetown, where Andrea and I went to Guapo's at Washington Harbour complex.
They are not related to the topic of the entry.
Tonight, I had a conceptual breakthrough and suddenly a decision I should have made at least five years ago now has a clear course of action in the coming months.
I have decided to leave Washington, D.C. I've decided to move away from here. And I'm doing it in 2021 -- in the coming months -- not hypothetically three years from now. Most importantly, I have a place in mind that I should have thought of sooner.
As context, I know I've written about this ad nauseum, so I'll just restate it quickly ...
Washington, D.C., and I are finished. If not for good, then for an unspecified period. It's time for me to leave here. It has been such time for a while, but I'm bad at making any major and life-altering decisions.
But in the past year, the living situation here has become intolerable. Simply put, I can no longer abide the Branch Covidian panicked hysteria married to WOKE lunacy that is the new fundamentalist religion of the big, blue cities.
About that, please don't be a young Karenic bitch -- fully WOKE, fully Covid paranoiac -- and yell at me, a stranger, wherever about a mask being below one nostril because, consequences be damned, I WILL yell back at you and tell you what I think of you. Please just know that.
Yes, I realize I'm an easy target as a middle aged, weird, alone, short, and unattractive white guy in a out-of-control WOKE fundamentalist city, but again, as you have no power over me in that situation (unlike, say, a nasty flight attendant), I WILL respond and you won't like how.
Beyond just the fundamentalist-like malevolent lunacy that has gripped Washington, D.C., and made it a miserable place to live, I'm also WAAAAY past my sell-by date, so to speak. Remember that I've been in the D.C. area for 29 years to include about 20 in D.C. proper (i.e., since Feb 2001 less a six month period between June 2004 and March 2005). I simply don't belong here any longer.
What's more, owing to my origin, upbringing, and psychological state, I have NEVER really fit in here personality or temperament-wise. And now, as a middled aged, eccentric, and very volatile man, I find myself in a place where not only do I not want to be but where I clearly no longer belong. The Covid-and-WOKE-infused insanity of this place at this time merely puts an exclamation point on the matter.
Above: Yes, Snows Court with snow on the ground; Snows Court is located off 25th St NW in Foggy Bottom.
My present life and work situation is such that I can afford this action AND keep my job since everything is "maximal telework" until the end of fucking time. How else would you characterize the absurdities of "Covid cases in all its spiked proteins and BoJo's hysterical mutations are long-term zero AND America's cisgendered, binary-based systemic racism has been resolved to Ibram X. Kendi's satisfaction ..."??
Anypoint, my point is, my time here is over and I need and can go to another place. Maybe things will be different 5 or 10 years from now and I'll return. Who knows. That's not my concern now.
For my planned move, I just need to find an apartment in the new place I have in mind. To that end, I think I should look for a realtor's help even though I know they don't usually do that.
I want to have moved by no longer than six months from now -- i.e., on the eve of August 2021 -- and quite possibly sooner. So, while I'm not in a frantic rush, I want to initiate the process in the coming weeks.
Now, about where to move: Well, where is there a sufficiently urban environment with many apartment options and that I don't need a car and is in a tropical-climed seaside setting?? Plus it is in a conservative-run state where the Covid hysteria is minimalized??
In the two hours since I reached this decision, at home here in my wee, dimly lamp-lit little apartment tonight and while watching late night old sitcoms on Antenna TV (I really like Dear John) -- I've gone through a weird flood of emotions and overemotions.
In particular, in coming to this decision that I feel is right and upon which I will follow through -- rather than just saying something but with no intention of following through on it -- I feel an odd sense of nervous finality in a goodbye to this place.
As a final point: Given the basically unresolvable and ugly situation between my mother and me, there is also no point for me to remain in this region. What's more, my dad, now 80 years old, lives in Florida, and I need to be closer to him. This is true even though he's way up in Flagler Beach from the perspective of Miami Beach.
But right now, I'm just going to bed, under a pile of quilts, pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals, fan whirling away, and the window a/c blower on just to add to the white noise into dreamland.