Rocky Start, Smoother Transition
Getting used to this house was a bit of a challenge when I first got here. There are so many lightswitches everywhere--which Ron explained was because two of the switches are going to be for the ceiling fans we'll eventually install in every room.
The house is big, and it smelled like paint and wood, and I didn't know where anything was, and nothing in it was really mine except for some books and some clothes, and my computers.
Public transportation in the states is a bizarre concept in most cities--you either drive or you drive, or you drive. Buses are for getting to the business districts only. You can't catch a bus to take you all over the city--it's go downtown, go back, that's it. So unless I get a ride from Greg, or from Ron, I'm home.
It was a bit of an adjustment this time--before, whenever I'd left to go stay with Ron for a few months, I knew that the time with him was finite, and that I"d be going home eventually. I didn't WANT to go home, mind you, but I had to, and there was some comfort in that. This time, I'm here. I'm stuck, and I ain't goin' back--at least not for a few years. (We don't want me to get stuck on the wrong side of the border). There's a kind of finality in that--knowing that it's not just going to be a few months before I *could* see my family again, if I wanted to.
Christmas and New Years is a very stressful time, and everyone's nerves are raw--especially when you try to throw in a wedding right before Christmas, and then juggle a butt-ton of traveling to visit family, and a whole crap-load of paperwork--government, immigration, medical, name changes, the works.
Ever since New Years, though, it's been nice. Things have calmed down, the house smells like meatballs, and cookies, fried eggs and bacon, and tacos--gone is the smell of wood and paint.
I have clearly defined space in the house, and I have been slowly reorganizing things like the pantry and the cupboards to suit my needs and preferences (as Ron had promised me I could), and the house is starting to feel like mine, ours, and not *just* his.
I've rewashed all my clothes, so they all smell like me again (and not 'closet'). And we got a new bedspread for the new bed (the old one was murder to sleep on--Ron was waiting for me to get here so we could pick one out together), which I love.
And we've put a deposit on that Ragdoll cat breed I've wanted since 2007. She's a 3 month old chocolate lynx point (mitted), and her name shall be Sophie.
When we're not killing ourselves to clean, find flaws in the house (so the contractors can fix things before the warranties are up), and do paperwork, we dick off and play some diablo on the Xbox, or just chill and chat in our bedroom of solace.
I admit that I was feeling really out of place when I first got here, and the stress of everything happening all at once was overwhelming. But things have calmed right down, and I'm feeling really, really happy.
The house is big, and it smelled like paint and wood, and I didn't know where anything was, and nothing in it was really mine except for some books and some clothes, and my computers.
Public transportation in the states is a bizarre concept in most cities--you either drive or you drive, or you drive. Buses are for getting to the business districts only. You can't catch a bus to take you all over the city--it's go downtown, go back, that's it. So unless I get a ride from Greg, or from Ron, I'm home.
It was a bit of an adjustment this time--before, whenever I'd left to go stay with Ron for a few months, I knew that the time with him was finite, and that I"d be going home eventually. I didn't WANT to go home, mind you, but I had to, and there was some comfort in that. This time, I'm here. I'm stuck, and I ain't goin' back--at least not for a few years. (We don't want me to get stuck on the wrong side of the border). There's a kind of finality in that--knowing that it's not just going to be a few months before I *could* see my family again, if I wanted to.
Christmas and New Years is a very stressful time, and everyone's nerves are raw--especially when you try to throw in a wedding right before Christmas, and then juggle a butt-ton of traveling to visit family, and a whole crap-load of paperwork--government, immigration, medical, name changes, the works.
Ever since New Years, though, it's been nice. Things have calmed down, the house smells like meatballs, and cookies, fried eggs and bacon, and tacos--gone is the smell of wood and paint.
I have clearly defined space in the house, and I have been slowly reorganizing things like the pantry and the cupboards to suit my needs and preferences (as Ron had promised me I could), and the house is starting to feel like mine, ours, and not *just* his.
I've rewashed all my clothes, so they all smell like me again (and not 'closet'). And we got a new bedspread for the new bed (the old one was murder to sleep on--Ron was waiting for me to get here so we could pick one out together), which I love.
And we've put a deposit on that Ragdoll cat breed I've wanted since 2007. She's a 3 month old chocolate lynx point (mitted), and her name shall be Sophie.
When we're not killing ourselves to clean, find flaws in the house (so the contractors can fix things before the warranties are up), and do paperwork, we dick off and play some diablo on the Xbox, or just chill and chat in our bedroom of solace.
I admit that I was feeling really out of place when I first got here, and the stress of everything happening all at once was overwhelming. But things have calmed right down, and I'm feeling really, really happy.