Letter perfect.

Sometimes you get an email or correspondence from a friend that hits so many nails on the head that there's not much to say. I hope he won't mind, but this email really put things into perspective more then the hours of racking my brain about this move have of late. He moved from Ottawa to Spain on 6 days notice and has been there 4 years. I've anonymized and edited the content slightly, hope he doesn't mind:

[...]The first six months were non-stop party. Now, I'm a bit older and a bit less motivated to chase tail than I was (what with being perpetually engaged) but I don't think the initial period will be any different the next time I (we) move. I would say that for at least half a year, you're not going to need or want your WarHammer figures, your comics or whatever else you do to occupy your time these days. But that's my personal experience and not necessarily going to match yours. [...]

Life now, almost four years later? It's a lot like life. Sometimes I want to strangle these [...] bastards. Then my mom calls me while I'm walking through a city park, taking in the sun in a t-shirt and light pants in the middle of March and she's fallen on the ice [...] and Spain feels pretty good. Or I go have a picnic on the beach, 30 minutes' bike ride from my apartment (which is pretty high up on the mountain now) at the beginning of April. Or I waste an entire afternoon in a cafe in a plaza wearing the biggest, faggiest sunglasses that I own (in fact, I only own one pair) talking to whatever collection of friends also don't feel like doing anything.

My point? I dunno. Places suck and they rule. Try to make them rule more than suck.

Singularly helpful in fact. Thanks dude. There's a reply coming about a few of the other things in the email :)