About five months ago, I decided to move to a small town. For reasons known and unknown…I am in the process of moving BACK to the city.
I have learned that as much as I enjoy living in a small town, you have to be PART of a small town to fully enjoy it. The folks around here are as friendly as can be, when I get to see them.
But, that’s the dilemma…everything I do is an HOUR away, so this chick gets to spend her days driving and driving and driving…I am actually about 25 MINUTES from the NEXT STATE…yeah…that much driving.
The Daughter, the Mother and the Sister all are in the city, my job is in the city and well, the friends I have left from “the split” are…you guessed it…in the city.
I, in my mind had thought, “oh these folks love me enough to come spend time out here. It’s not that bad, we have an extra room, they will be able to stay.”
I have had TWO visitors. My family has been up to my house a total of three, okay, FOUR times. In five months.
Hell, I am never home. I am always.on.the.road.
So, after “the Split”, I had been toying with the idea of moving back, getting closer to the Daughter, just in case. Well, the Just In Case is now upon us and I can’t get back fast enough.
But it’s hard. Where the hell are all the houses? Aren’t we in a recession?!?!
Or, better yet, where are all the NICE houses?!?!?
Kris (Just Kris) and I have looked, and looked and looked some more. We have dragged the Boy across multiple cities and two counties.
We have looked at small,
We have looked at large,
We have looked at strange,
We have looked at smelly. Very smelly.
And here’s what I have concluded…
People are on drugs. Serious, psychedelic shit.
There is no other explanation for the wallpaper, window treatments, paint, drywall texture, carpet, flooring, lighting choices that have been made by plenty. Other than mescaline. Lots and lots of mescaline.
And the amounts of money that they are asking for these homes that belong in the pages of High Times is outrageous.
$2,000 for the 15 sq ft home…with first, last and security deposit up front. Hurry, it’s going fast!!!! (No, what’s going fast is your buzz….toke up buddy!)
When we moved, I was stressed because we couldn’t find anything we liked, and I thought it was because I was moving to a small town with less choices. I was wrong.
In trying to move back, during Christmas, during winter, eeek!, I have found that it’s even more difficult to find a decent place in the city. How effin’ hard could this truly be? I know I am not picky, well, not SUPER picky…but there are a few things I require:
*Working electrical with no power surges.
*Carpet and/or flooring that I don’t STICK to.
*Rooms not painted green, red or have wallpaper with little fishermen on it.
*Ceilings that aren”t falling in.
*Maybe, just maybe, the previous owners/tenants/animals could removed all their possessions BEFORE I take possession.
Perhaps my standards are a bit too high. Perhaps I should just pitch a tent under I-45 and be done with it.
I mocked the city and bragged about small town life. I think the city is getting back at me now. This is my payback for turning my back on it. For thinking there was a better life further away.
All I learned is that I spend alot of time driving, that drive time radio sucks and that I am missing out on my life in the small town because by the time I get home, they’ve rolled up the sidewalks and turned off the lights for the night.
I wanna go home….