The needle has been found.

The most amazing thing happened to me today.

I rummaged through the haystack and it wasn't as easy to find as the obvious 1960's needle that pokes through Seattle's skyline. Apparently you can't type "fabulous apartment in my price range and in an ideal location" into your GPS system to lead you to "home." And funny enough, there is no yellow brick road to take you to Oz in the Emerald City.

But I found it anyway without Liza (my GPS voice) or Dorothy.

I found a place to live.

About 5 weeks and 1 day ago, I made a decision to leave my beautiful hometown Portlandia for another city. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed Portlandia’s company; the times we’ve had together are innumerable and priceless. It’s just that I want to see what else is out there. It’s not you, it’s me. I promise.

[Note: This sign now reads "Portland Oregon" but I have sentimental value with the old way. After all, this reads true for me. Minus the "Old Town."]

This move wasn’t “planned” per se, but the bed bug of moving has been biting me for the last five years ever since I graduated undergrad. And boy is s/he a bitch. Maybe that’s the culprit of my insomnia.

I started looking for jobs elsewhere and a Master’s program fell into my lap. Not to be one to say no to free schooling, I took it.

Two years later, thesis written and defended, I searched nationally as well as locally and was offered a job in a private business in Oregon. Not to be one to say no to good money and benefits in a failing economy, I took it.

When that economy took its toll on my company, I again was on the hunt for a job. That’s when OSU rang like the orange & black fairy it is and asked me to teach. Not to be one to say no to my awesome alma mater (+health care/benefits), I took it despite its required 150 mile commute, 3 days a week.

You see where this story is going.

In these 4 years where I kept Oregon as my home, I’ve scratched at said bug with an inordinate amount of travel. New York x4, Palm Springs, Vegas x3, Disneyland, Boston, Philly, DC for Inauguration, Park City for Sundance x2, Hawaii, Whistler, Cabo, and a couple cruises. But I still come home tossing and turning. [For the record, my bed is incredibly comfortable and free of bed bugs. Maybe not the best of metaphors given that these creatures have become somewhat of an epidemic].

Fast-Forward January 2011. Over a delicious brunch of French toast in Bridgetown, one of my fabulous girlfriends and I were discussing changes and moving as she is moving herself come March. I gave her the same response I’d been giving myself for years, “What about a job? What about money?” She told me to just do it.

I come home from brunch and my roommate informs me that our landlord is in the midst of selling our condo and they want us out sooner than our agreed upon lease and are offering a very nice “incentive.” Well, one of my excuses is nil. There’s the money. Timing, you’re funny.

There was still the whole issue of having employment, the chances of finding employment in an unfriendly job market, and quitting my 2 jobs when most have none. What sense did this make? Apparently enough. Being the planner that I am, I like for things to be predictable or at least have a relative sketch of my foreseeable future. I made the very unsettling decision to move without a job. Enter extreme anxiety.

So Seattle, you’re it. Some refer to Seattle as Portland’s brother city…I wouldn’t dare, as it seems inappropriate to leave one family member for another.

Five weeks and two days later, I’m with JOB and a home. I’ve seen the worst of Seattle and then I walked into my home…apartment number 10 that I saw to be exact. It was the first place I felt it wasn’t necessary to pinch my nose to save my body from communicable diseases it could possibly get from invasive aromas and that I could lay in the middle of my living room and fall asleep there watching Friends. This is imperative.

After gleefully signing a lease and sharing hugs with my mom and granny (my apartment hunters of the day), I called my dad who has been supportive but I also believe to be secretly hoping it doesn’t work out so I’ll stay home.

Dad: Wow, you’ve got a lot done in a month.

Me: Didn’t think I could do it?

Actually, I really didn’t think I could do it but I thought if I kept envisioning it happening, then maybe it would become reality. I never give myself much credit for getting anything accomplished as there are always items running into tomorrow’s planner checklist that I wanted to get done today, but today, I am giddy with delight.

I feel like calling for Penny Lane and yelling, "IT'S ALL HAPPENING!"

Exhale.