The Eagle Has Landed (or "Where 'The Driveabout' Becomes 'Sweet Home Chicago'")

Well, I'm home.

North Sheridan Road in Chicago, nine stories up.  Facing the Lake (which is so big that I feel it needs a capital L).  Two blocks from the beach.  Three blocks from the El.  Previously I showed you a picture of the view from the apartment house brochure, but here is my honest to goodness view, along with some of my honest to goodness boxes.

And I love it.  There's a doorman (24 hours, Mom!) and an on-site property manager and on-site maintenance people and frankly there are so many that I am having trouble learning names.  When I moved in the place was cleaner than I would have gotten it myself.  (It was nearly "Andy and Jill Downs Clean," who were my former landlords on Elmwood, and that is the highest standard in property management that I can think of.)

But there's still a strangeness to everything.  First of all, I have no furniture.  It's both liberating and a bit unnerving (perhaps that's the same thing) to know that everything you own on earth can fit in three trips of the Vue and one trip of Mitch's gigantic SUV.  One of these trips remains in Jessica's basement, and I plan to get that this weekend.  But that's it.  Until the furniture is delivered tomorrow, I do not own anything that I cannot carry myself.  I am typing this sitting on the sturdiest tote I own, sitting in the walk-in closet because there's a light in here.  Although I brought home a lamp from the IKEA store today, it didn't occur to me to pick up a light bulb so I decided not to spend a lot of time putting it together tonight.  I know it's weird to sit in a closet, albeit a large one, but it feels comfy right now, and I can see Chicago out of my bedroom window and hear the traffic which is oddly reassuring.

The strangeness is more than the camping experience, which I will admit is made much more comfortable by Mitch's insistence that I borrow her spectacular air mattress, which inflates in minutes and is about two feet high.  Having lived in so many random places for the past six months, I've nearly forgotten what it feels like to have my own place.  And the fact that it is so different from anywhere I've ever lived makes things seem even more surreal.

This is going to take a few days to sink in.

Mitch and I started off this morning at, where else, the Firefly.  The Driveabout began at the Firefly, and its last leg should start there as well.

Driving into Chicago on Lake Shore Drive I realized that this is my city now.  This is where I get to live.  It's taken 171 days and nearly 19,000 miles to get three hours from Fort Wayne, but I'm home now.  That was an overwhelming feeling.

Then we arrived, and Mitch liked the place.  I mean, it is pretty fabulous, if I do say so myself.

We moved the boxes into the apartment (my apartment) - which didn't take too long, really - and then had a wonderful lunch at a neighborhood restaurant (my neighborhood).  Next stop, Schaumburg, to the IKEA store.  Schaumburg is a ways out - 24 miles - and in the early afternoon it's about a 45 minute drive.  On the way home, hitting rush hour, it took an hour and a half.  I'm glad I will be working from home!  (My home.)

If you've never been to IKEA, it's quite an amazing place.  Let me make a list of the home furnishings they don't have.

1.

That's right:  NOTHING.  If they don't sell it, you really don't need it for your home.  A big shout-out to Uncle Bill and Aunt Connie for suggesting this, and your prediction of the cost of outfitting the apartment was exactly right.  But I am having them do the assembly when they deliver everything tomorrow.  I have no spatial intelligence, and I'm comfortable with that - I don't need to try to impress anyone!

As we were driving back from the store, I said something to Mitch about going home.  Then it hit me.  Yes, I was going home - to my place.  It's been a long time since "home" has been a noun rather than an adverb for me.  I've said "going home" for months and by that I've meant to someone else's house or to a hotel.  Now it means something different, and that is taking a while to process.

Hunter S. Thompson wrote in The Rum Diary about his protagonist deciding to sacrifice some of his freedom for the convenience of settling down a little.  I get it.  I am looking forward to having my bathroom stuff laid out just the way I want it, and having a closet to hang clothes - and for that matter, being able to wear whichever of my clothes I want to rather than having to settle for what's in my bag.  Of course, right now I can only wear what I can find which is a relatively limited selection.  But I'll work on that tomorrow.  I look forward to getting the kitchen organized so I can cook again.  And I will no longer have that moment of panic when someone asks my address.  I'm glad to have a home base that is mine.

In case you're curious, since November 12 when I left Fort Wayne, I have driven nearly 19,000 miles.  It's been 171 days and I have stayed overnight in 42 different cities in 26 states (not counting the many other cities and towns that I've stopped in and looked at).  So many friends and family have been incredibly generous with their hospitality and that has been a wonderful part of this experience.  (As an aside, the Driveabout has gone on for so long that two of my friends have moved during this period, and I stayed with each of them at their old places and subsequently at their new.  I guess a lot of us are in transition.)  My first stop on the Driveabout was with my friend Beth in Chicago, and the fact that the Driveabout is ending, at least as a homeless experience, in Chicago is very symmetrical.

By the way, I think I'll keep the Driveabout blog active, at least for a while, so that I can chronicle (and thereby remember) my discoveries in Chicago.  This is just the next chapter in the adventure that my life has become, after all.  And anyway, I understand there are a few museums here, and just a tiny bit of interesting local history.  I'll check it out and issue a full report.

But all that will come in time.  For now, I am sitting on my tote simply awestruck that I am home.