More Settling In

Well, I’ve made it through the first month of my big transition. Life is pretty good, but it’s all still strange and mostly unfamiliar. Working on the premise that it will take about three months to feel fully settled, I’m a bit comforted to know that I’m only a third of the way through.
I have this theory, that unfortunately I don’t really practice, but anyway, it’s a good theory and it goes like this: worrying is useless, because the things you worry about generally don’t happen, while things that you had never even given a moment’s thought to can suddenly rise up and give you a nice juicy bite on the patootie. So, I look back on the last couple of years and the time I spent worrying about drastic things, like becoming homeless, which of course would never have happened. Wasted time and energy. And before I moved, I was extremely concerned about how Daisy would react to this move. After all, she’s twelve (I don’t even want to know how many years that is in dog years, because she will always be a puppy to me). How she would fare with being driven across the country by a stranger, when she doesn’t even like to drive to the park? How she would deal with cold weather, and having to “do her business” on a small patio, when she’s always had a large yard to run around?
So here’s the update. Daisy is doing…fantastically. She has adjusted without any issues at all. She got along famously with her cross country driver, even when they were stalled by bad weather and the drive took several days longer than anticipated. I was a wreck, missing her, but according to the nightly texts I received, she and her chauffer were having a grand time, romping through snow (which, mind you, she had never encountered before), wearing a little coat (I thought she hated outerwear), and generally just having a grand old time. And when she arrived, she adjusted to the new house and new life without problems. She can’t climb the stairs in the new house, but she gets carried up and down. She doesn’t like to pee and poop on the patio, so now the princess gets walked three times a day, which allows her to meet other dogs and admiring neighbors, which she enjoys very much. She has assumed ownership of the white plumpy chair in the living room, the one with the pink cashmere throw, like the throne she so justly deserves. She has, in fact, completely and totally acclimated.
I haven’t adjusted quite as well yet, but I’m working on it. I am very much a creature of habit, and had a solid routine in California, my circle of friends who I had known forever, my house, my yard, the sandwich shop where I didn’t even have to say my order, because they automatically started making it as soon as I walked in the door. My Saturday morning trip to Trader Joe’s to buy flowers every week, the carwash, the ladies at the checkout counters at Ralphs and Gelsons. My noisy neighbors. My quiet neighbors.
I miss those things and those people. Frankly, and I’m a little ashamed to admit it, I miss my old life. Even though I still talk to my family and best friend as regularly as I did before, I didn’t expect to be quite as homesick as I am. It’s a palpable pain, and it makes me feel weak. I don’t like it at all. I am very aware of the opportunity I’ve been given, so grateful to have a good solid job after all of the stress and uncertainty of the last two years. I remember thinking so many times, if only I had a job, nothing would ever bother me again. But of course, that’s unrealistic. I am human, and it would probably be a little weird if I wasn’t having some adjustment issues, having just changed, oh, about every little thing in my life.
So, for now, I focus on the good things, and take comfort in knowing it will all get better. It’s beautiful here, for one thing. I love my drive to work, through a nice little New England town, past gorgeous historic houses, the kind I have always fantasized about living in. It’s possible that fantasy could now become a reality! My coworkers are very nice. I’ve started to make a couple of friends. The sweet little old lady (I’m not being hyperbolic, she’s about 4’11” and probably in her eighties) at the grocery store recognizes me now and calls me Sweetie. I’m using google maps less, and starting to recognize roads and landmarks. I made it to work and back the other day without any directional help at all. And, I found a good place for sandwiches. They don’t know my name yet, but I’m sure that’s only a matter of time.
The end, for now

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